


The Worlds At Our Fingertips

by breadscraps



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Slow Burn, Stardust AU, critical role au, guess who got on the stardust hype train and is now taking it way too far?, if you couldnt guess its me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-08-14 23:12:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 76,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8032729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breadscraps/pseuds/breadscraps
Summary: We start off our Stardust/Perc'ahlia AU with Vex and Vax, and their mutual uncertainty about a gentleman that Vex has her heart set on in Syngorn.





	1. Our Story Begins With a Brother and Sister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We start off our Stardust/Perc'ahlia AU with Vex and Vax, and their mutual uncertainty about a gentleman that Vex has her heart set on in Syngorn.

 

               Vex has always loved to climb. Vax is arguably better at it, but doesn’t quite get the thrill from heights that his sister does. On the rooftops things look smaller, seem less real. On the rooftops Vex’ahlia can pretend she’s not part of the world below, that she doesn’t have a care in her heart beyond the wind in her hair and the sky at her fingertips. But she can’t pretend forever. No matter what, she always has to make the slow climb back down to earth. No matter what, the walls of Syngorn rise back up around her, and that precious freedom is pulled from her fingertips.

               Vex hesitates before her imminent descent. She lingers on the rooftop of her home, staring out across the grassy plain that stretches between Syngorn and the Wall. She squints to try and make out the details of the long line of stone. Her eyes come across a faint notch in the Wall, and a small figure moves briefly in front of it. She knows it’s Gilmore, guarding the gateway to the neighboring realm of Stormhold, but she cannot see the details of his long brown hair, or the flowing purple robes he usually wears. If she were a full blooded elf, Vex thinks wretchedly, she’d probably be able to see everything just fine.

               The nervous lump in Vex’s throat chokes her even more than it had been before. She looks away from Wall, and from the small dot that is probably Gilmore. Her gaze falls to her hands. She straightens her sleeves and smooths the front of her shirt. The sleeves are already smooth. There are no wrinkles down the front of her shirt. This has been the case the last dozen times Vex'ahlia checked. It does not keep her from looking again.

               “Hey Stubby,” a voice calls gently from behind her. Vex jumps a little, hands flashing to the edge of the rooftop for support. She looks over as Vax takes a seat beside her, resting his elbows on his knees and dangling his feet idly over the roof ledge.

               “Hello,” Vex says, somehow managing to sound much less worried than she feels. She even summons up a smile, although she isn’t sure if Vax sees through it or not. He looks sideways at her, expression thoughtful.

               “You look nice,” he remarks casually, gesturing at her clothes. Vex’s smile becomes a touch more genuine, and she smooths her shirt again. This time it’s out of pride, and not worry. She’d saved for weeks to afford the fine silks, and adored the deep rich green color. It reminded her of the forest in the deep heat of summer. “You don’t usually dress so well when you’re climbing… is there an occasion?” Vex’s smile falters.

               “Oh, you know,” she says smoothly with a dismissive shrug. She hopes he’ll let the topic end with that noncommittal response. She stares out over Syngorn, but can still see Vax watching her from the corner of her eye.

               “No, I don’t,” he replies, just as smoothly. Damn. Vex thumbs nervously at the end of her braid, but doesn’t say anything. Vax watches her for a second, and then shifts, “Let me,” he says and takes her braid. Vex quietly lets her brother undo the braid and comb through her hair with his fingertips. He doesn’t say anything else, just waits patiently as he starts to section off the locks. Vex can tell he’s going for a fancier braid tonight based on how many times he’s dividing her hair. She swallows, fighting with her own silence.

               “I thought I’d… pay someone a visit tonight,” she says, voice forcibly light, but wavering. Vax’s hands pause for a second before he resumes his work.

               “Oh?” he says, in almost the exact same tone as Vex. “That mystery man you refuse to tell me anything about?” Vex folds her fingers together and hums an ‘mmhm’ through the thin line of her tightly pressed lips. She still isn’t sure why she can’t bring herself to tell Vax about Saundor. It isn’t that she doesn’t trust him, she knows he wouldn’t be an asshole about her taking interest in someone… but for some reason the hesitance still exists. She feels a little guilty about keeping the details to herself.

               “You know,” Vax starts slowly, “You’re a grown-ass woman, and you’re twice as strong as me...” Vex laughs a little, and punches Vax’s knee lightly.

               “Yeah I know,” she interjects jokingly. Vax tugs a little harder at her hair so Vex yelps.

               “…But just… both eyes open,” he adds, a little more somber than before. Vex blinks. Her eyes flicker down to her twisting fingertips, then back out over the city, and finally over her shoulder at Vax.

               “Always,” she promises, and hopes her smile is convincing. Vax butts his forehead against her shoulder, and finishes tying off the braid.

               “I’ll be around, maybe at the Wall,” he says casually, standing on the rooftop and looking out toward the setting sun. His words drift off like he’s about to say more, but he stops himself. Vex can think of a dozen different ways he can end the sentence, but none of them matter. He’s already said what matters. Vex carefully pulls her braid over her shoulder and trails a thumb along it. She looks up as Vax turns to leave, and catches the edge of his fingertips with her own as he passes by.

               “Love you,” she says quietly. Vax doesn’t stop walking, but briefly curls his fingers inward to hang on to her for a second longer before they’re pulled apart.

               “Love you too,” he calls to her as he clambers over the edge of the roof and starts to climb down. Vex closes her eyes and breathes deeply. She stands to catch the last rays of sunlight on her face before night falls. High above, the stars start to wink to life. Vex heaves a sigh and looks up at them, rubbing at her arms to chase away the quick-spreading nighttime chill.

               “Wish me luck,” she says to the open air. She lifts a hand and holds it up against the darkening sky. She curls her fingers inward as if to grab a bit of freedom. If only it could be pocketed and taken with her… a tiny bit of reassurance in a world full of walls. But it can’t. It slips through her fingertips as soon as she opens her hands, and Vex instead must grasp at the walls as she climbs back down to earth.

 

* * *

 

 

               The streets of Syngorn are quiet by the time Vex sets foot on them. They are mostly dark, lit only by the slight glow of lanterns. Most importantly they are vacant. Vex can traverse them without receiving a single look of barely-concealed contempt. She can still see them in her thoughts though. Disapproving phantoms walk the streets of Vex’s mind, and she has to stride forward with a straight back and high chin to endure them without faltering.

               _It’s a street. We have just as much right to walk on it as anyone else does._ Vax’s words ring clearly through Vex’s mind. She uses them to steel her resolve. Even when the streets are empty, she almost feels like an imposter walking on them. But her brother always speaks with such forceful conviction that Vex can’t help but think whatever he says is true. It helps—at least for a time—to think of his reassurances. _We’re as whole and real and worthy as anyone in this damn place. More so, even._ Vex holds on to that one. She stops in front of her destination and repeats it a few times in her head. She closes her eyes, trying to picture Vax’s face as he said it.

               “Just as much right to be here as anyone else,” Vex says under her breath, opening her eyes and flexing her fingers. “Just as worthy as anyone else,” she whispers and casts about for a few loose pebbles on the ground. After finding a few, she shakes them nervously in her palm like a gambler shuffling her dice before a critical roll. Her heart is pounding, her hands are shaking. With her free hand Vex smooths out her shirt once more and plucks a nonexistent mote of dust off of her breeches. She takes a steadying breath, pulls her arm back, and then lets one of the pebbles fly.

               It ticks harmlessly off the second story window. Before she can lose her nerve, Vex throws another. It patters off the glass and then down to the ground. Vex holds her breath, heart in her throat. A shadow falls across the window as something shifts within the room. The curtains are drawn away and the window opens. A beam of yellow light falls upon Vex, split in two by Saundor’s shadow. He looks down on her, framed with light, long brown hair spilling over his shoulders. His eyes, like liquid gold, are bright and have an inner light that sends a shiver down Vex’s spine. She’s momentarily struck speechless, so in her silence she flashes him a smile.

               “Hello, darling,” she manages after a moment, and is pleased with how deceptively smooth and calm her voice is.

               “Vex’ahlia,” Saundor greets, the edges of his lips curling upward as he speaks. Vex’s smile broadens when he says her name, and a bit of her nervousness fades. “What brings you here at this hour?” Saundor asks coyly, and he leans forward to put his elbows on the windowsill and prop his chin atop his fingertips. He’s wearing a loose, flowing white shirt. When he leans forward his hair falls perfectly around his face, waterfalls of dark bronze cut cleanly by his long pointed ears. Vex takes a moment longer to reply than she ought to.

               “I wondered if you’d like to take a walk?” she calls, head tilted to the side. She resists the urge to tug nervously on her braid or to wring her hands, and instead props them on her hips. Saundor laughs, a low deep chuckle that pours gracefully in to the air.

               “It’s rather late, and dark out,” he points out, and Vex has trouble discerning whether it’s an excuse or a jest. She continues with her bravado regardless.

               “Don’t worry dear, I’ll protect you,” she says with a wink. Saundor hums thoughtfully at that, and pulls back from the window without a word. Vex frowns and her heart falls a little as the curtain is drawn once more. She can hear her pulse hammering away in her ears. Is he coming down? Or is he going to bed? It would’ve been nice if he had given any indication whether or not he intended to take up or decline her offer. Vex shifts restlessly from foot to foot. Just as she reaches to pull anxiously at her braid a side door opens, and Saundor steps into the night. Vex casually flips her braid over her shoulder.

               Saundor closes the door gently behind him, and pulls a long velvet cloak over his shoulders. A touch of triumph enters Vex’s heart when he approaches her. She stands up a little straighter and smiles as he offers his arm. She takes it. As she does, an almost unbearable excitement wraps its fingers around her heart.

               “Alright, my brave warrior,” Saundor says, “Lead on.”

 

* * *

 

               Vax watches from the shadows as his sister throws a couple of pebbles at a stranger’s window. He feels a little guilty about following her. He’d said he was headed for the Wall… but then he had never specified _when_. Up until this point he’d restrained himself from doing any snooping into Vex’s crush. In fact he had resolved specifically to _not_ go prying in to her business. He is more than confident in her ability to handle things on her own. The reason he’s currently crouched in a shrubbery breaking that resolution is that new silk shirt. Vex has always been practical with her money. What little she makes, along with the stipend granted from their father, is squirreled away for necessities and savings. She would never spend it on something that, until very recently, Vax thought she would consider frivolous. He wants to tell himself it’s her version of armor, or camouflage. It’s a means to an end, a way for her to fit in—as much as a bastard half-elf can fit in among the pompous populace of Syngorn. But for some reason it feels like more than just a shirt. It feels like Vex trying to change herself to please other people. And that thought, more than anything else, bites deep at Vax’s core.

               That being said, Vax can’t help but doubt his worry when he sees how Vex carries herself. She stands, smiling and confident underneath the open window. From his vantage point, Vax can’t see the elf that his sister is speaking to. That’s fine. He’s here for Vex anyway. She seems confident, happy even. He can’t help but grin and shake his head when she winks. He runs a hand over his mouth to smother a laugh. She’s always so charming. She throws that wink at anyone who dares look down at her. She knows it will turn their gaze away. That wink is weaponized, and it’s nice to see her use it affectionately for once. Vax silences himself as a side door opens and someone steps outside.

               Vax’s attention immediately snaps to the newcomer. Seeing Vex calm and smiling has assuaged his worry, allowing his intense curiosity to take center stage. The elf is tall and slender, with long bronze hair pulled back in to a loose half-ponytail. Vax watches him close the door and sweep a long velvet cloak over his shoulder. His every action is fluid and purposeful. His posture and outfit speak to his wealth. Despite being relaxed evening-ware, his clothes still make Vex’s new shirt look plain. A twang of annoyance strums in Vax’s chest. _Rich people._ They have to lord their wealth over others even when they’re wearing pajamas. Preposterous.

               Fancy Pants' eyes are bright gold, like two coins. The comparison curls Vax’s lips upward in to a grin. His gaze passes briefly over Vax’s hiding spot but doesn’t land on him. Money isn’t everything, obviously. Maybe Fancy Pants ought to invest in some spectacles, Vax thinks, a touch of proud spite in his heart. He brushes it away, reminding himself that this man is the target of Vex’ahlia’s affection. Vax doesn’t recognize him. Mostly because he’s doesn’t consider many people in Syngorn _worth_ recognizing. But Vex clearly thinks otherwise… so Vax commits the face to memory.

               Vax watches the elf move toward his sister and offer his arm. Vex takes it, fearless and undaunted. A warm spark of pride burns in Vax’s heart as he watches the pair walk away. It’s nice to see Vex going after what she wants. It’s even nicer to see her get it… even if ‘it’ is an overdressed nobleman.

               “You sure know how to pick them,” Vax mutters once they’re around the corner. He steps out of the shadows and shrubs and dusts himself off. It seems the silk shirt is just a silk shirt after all. Reassured, Vax turns away from Vex’s last known location. It’s about time he makes good on his word, and visits Gilmore. He hesitates, suddenly faced with the daunting task of his own romantic endeavors. After a moment of loitering he heads toward the Wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A splendid shout-out to novemberocean on tumblr for stoking the flames of this AU when it was just a silly tag on a post. And a big extra wonderful thanks to Liz (magikmutant) for being my beta-reader and encouragement! 
> 
> Will I ever write a plot summary, or even a chapter summary? Who knows.  
> EDIT: I did write chapter summaries. How bout that


	2. A Shirt is Just a Shirt & A Leaf is Just a Leaf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vex'ahlia and Saundor go for a nice little walk, and absolutely nothing goes wrong and everyone is kind.

 

               Summer is a fast fading memory. Gone are the pleasant warm evenings full of mild summer breezes. The season has broken against the chilly shores of fall. Vex’ahlia uses the cool breeze as an excuse to draw closer to Saundor, but takes care not to shiver. She isn’t sure why, but she smothers that trembling impulse that lingers at the top of her spine. She wouldn’t want to seem…actually Vex isn’t sure what a shiver would make her ‘seem’. But she’s sure that it isn’t something she wants. Regardless, she revels in the warmth provided by Saundor’s arm and side. When she draws nearer, he flicks his eyes toward her, the faintest curl of a smile on his thin mouth. He tucks her arm closer, and rests his opposite hand on top of her fingers. Vex keeps her gaze ahead, but mirrors his smile.

               “You picked a chilly night,” Saundor says conversationally as a breeze nips at the edges of his cloak. Vex lifts her chin a little, heart hammering in her chest as she second-guesses her every breath.

               “I had to wait,” she says, and then looks slowly over at Saundor. He raises a single brow at her, skeptical.

               “For what, exactly?” he asks. Vex grins and tugs at Saundor’s arm a little.

               “You’ll see.”

               Vex hasn’t been idly wandering the streets of Syngorn with Saundor on her arm. Perhaps in his eyes they are taking a bit of a back-alley jaunt through the city. However, this path is excruciatingly familiar to Vex. She can walk this trail in her sleep. This is the trail she always takes to the park. It winds around the main streets of the city, and avoids the popular shops and stands of the marketplace. It’s the best way to get to the park while avoiding as many people as possible.

               Syngorn is flanked by a small field to the east, and a large forest to the west. When she was younger, Vex would often abandon the city in favor of the woods. However, returning to Syngorn with scraped knees, muddy clothes, and twigs in her hair became less and less tolerable the older she got. So for the last several years she has instead taken solace in the park. The trees aren’t as tall, the grass isn’t quite as lush, and everything seems…sterile and less alive. But it’s better than anything else in this damn city.

               Saundor seems a little surprised when they finally come upon the pathway to the park. Vex wonders if he’s ever taken the less-traveled-path into the area. Probably not. A popular, well-to-do elf like Saundor would take the most traveled and most-populated path for sure. Nobody would sneer at him like they would at Vex’ahlia. She pushes that thought aside and slips a little further away from Saundor. She drops his arm and takes his hand instead, leading him onward.

               “This way,” she says, unable to contain the giddy note in her voice.

               “Vex’ahlia,” Saundor says, picking up his pace to keep up with her. He sounds a little exasperated, “what are we out here for?” Vex pulls him deeper into the small wooded area. It can hardly be called a ‘wooded’ area. It’s more like a row of trees on either side of a cobblestone path. But there’s one tree in particular near the end of the path that Vex has her eyes on. She stops with a little bounce in front of him, and then gestures up toward the green-filled branches.

               “This,” Vex says, “is why we’re out here.” She doesn’t realize her fingers have slipped out of his, or that she’s hugging her sides gently with a smile on her face as she looks up at the tree. A cool wind threatens to send another shiver down her spine, but Vex quells it. Saundor waits until the whisper of leaves has died down.

               “A tree,” he says. Vex finally looks back at him, heart jumping to her throat. There’s something about his voice. It isn’t disappointment. It’s more like… disinterest? He doesn’t understand.

               “No, no!” she says quickly, and steps back over to his side. She takes his hand in her own again and lifts it. She points both of their fingers toward the heart of the branches, and nods. “There,” she says, “Do you see it right in the middle? The first red leaf of fall.” Saundor follows her gesture, brow furrowing a little. There, deep in a body of green, is a single red leaf. Vex glances over to catch his reaction. A slow smile dawns on his face as he pulls Vex’s hand down with his. He hums softly,

               “Ah,” he says. “I see now, how quaint.” Quaint isn’t exactly the word Vex would use to describe it. Hopeful? Inspiring? Beautiful? Sure! But quaint? This single red leaf is the harbinger of change, the first spark before a forest fire of yellow, orange, and red takes over the tree branches. It is anything but quaint. Vex opens her mouth to say just that, but she glances over at Saundor and the words die on her lips. He seems amused. Vex suddenly has the impression that if she speaks her mind, he will laugh. She settles instead for a little smile.

               “I just like when the trees change color,” she says daintily, “the park is pretty as a painting at the turn of the season.” It’s just a leaf after all, she tells herself. Just a little leaf. Her heart flutters and falls some, but she determinedly ignores it. Instead, she focuses on Saundor, whose expression brightens a little when she mentions paintings. He jumps eagerly into an explanation of some fall paintings he had commissioned last year. Vex listens, nodding as he speaks, pretending to know the names of the various, presumably well known, artists Saundor talks about.

               As he speaks, Saundor leads her away from the heart of the small grove of trees and toward a more well-traveled area of the park. She glances over her shoulder to catch one last glimpse of the solitary red leaf before it’s out of view. Vex doesn’t particularly care for this path. The cobblestone is well-kept, but the lay of the land makes this particular area a bit of a basin, and prone for puddles. There are none as of now, but there are telltale stains along the path, and bits of washed-in mud cling to the end of Saundor’s cloak. Vex decides not to mention it.

               “Oh Humphrey! Lady Victoria!” Saundor’s voice breaks Vex’s drifting train of thought. She blinks away thoughts of pulling Saundor onto a more practical path, and focuses on the two newcomers. The chilled hand of dread grips at her chest, and that repressed shiver finally makes it down Vex’s spine as she spots the noble couple arm in arm walking toward them. “How lovely to see you both this evening,” Saundor greets and he gives a slight bow at his waist when they stop in front of Vex and Saundor. Vex gives a small curtsy.

               “Yes, lovely,” Vex repeats with a strained tone and equally strained smile. Both of which suggest that it is not, in fact, lovely at all. Vex knows _Lady_ Victoria and _Lord_ Humphrey very well. They are just a few of the several aggressors in Syngorn that actively make Vex and Vax’s life as difficult as possible. Vax somehow manages to shrug them off. Vex is markedly less successful at it. A flicker of panic is entering her system, pumped into her bloodstream like adrenaline. Her first instinct is to run. Briefly she imagines herself leaping from rooftop to rooftop, flying free away from the confrontation. Her fantasy ends with her reaching the final edge and leaping off of it into an endless free fall.

               “Saundor,” Humphrey greets, his tone suggesting a friendship that Vex hadn’t previously been aware of. They are more than just familiar with each other, otherwise they would have prefaced each other’s names with ‘Lord’. Vex instinctively lifts her chin as she feels Humphrey and Victoria’s eyes land on her.

               “Oh! Lady Vex’ildan!” Victoria greets. Her smile is laced with venom that says she butchered Vex’ahlia’s name intentionally. But it’s the word ‘Lady’ that hits Vex like a slap across the face. She isn’t titled, and Victoria knows it. Vex wonders if anyone else can hear the rapid pulse of her heart, or see the muscle along her jaw clench.

               “Vex’ahlia,” Vex corrects coolly, smiling sweetly back.

               “Sorry?” Victoria asks, the picture of infuriating innocence.

               “Vex’ahlia. My name is Vex’ _ahlia_. My brother’s name is _Vax’ildan,_ ” she clarifies.

               “Oh!” Victoria says, and laughs. It’s a frustratingly beautiful noise, delicate and clear like a chorus of several small bells. “I’m sorry. They’re just so similar… and you two look _so_ alike--”

               “--we _are_ twins--” Vex interjects mildly, but Victoria keeps talking over her.

               “--you might as well be the same person!” She pauses, a slow smile curling across her face. Vex knows this expression. It’s the smile she wears right before she delivers some new insult. “You know, I’ve just realized. If you were the same person, you’d actually be a whole elf! Instead of half of one.” Victoria and Humphrey share some dignified laughter. Vex is too busy focusing on not crushing Saundor’s hand with her grip, and doesn’t notice that he chuckles as well.

               “Yes, very clever,” Vex praises with half a smile and a forced laugh. She can feel the heat rising in her cheeks and curses herself for that weakness. She thinks of Vax, tall and proud and telling her that she’s a whole person. She can’t recall exactly what he said anymore. His words are a faded echo next to Victoria’s beautiful laughter and cutting words. The hurt lingers in her chest and threatens to choke off her words. Vex struggles to remain composed. Her chin drops a little.

               “I didn’t expect to see you out here,” Humphrey says, nodding to Saundor. “It’s a bit cold for a walk. Victoria and I almost didn’t go, but we were _bored_ beyond belief listening to the new entertainer we hired. Mother and Father really didn’t pick one of quality. I’ll have to see to it that he’s on the streets before the morrow.” A flash of rage makes Vex’s fingers twitch, but she manages to keep the emotion off of her face.

               “Oh, Vex and I just fancied a walk before it became altogether too cold for that sort of thing,” Saundor answers, patting Vex’s hand. Vex hardly notices the gesture. She’s too busy trying to tell herself to ignore the fact that Saundor didn’t call her ‘Lady’ Vex. Manners of conversation usually dictate that Saundor keep up the pretense of ‘Lady Vex’ahlia’ in order to avoid embarrassing Victoria who ‘accidentally’ titled her. Vex tells herself he is being honest, that it’s a strike back at Victoria in order to defend Vex. For some reason it doesn’t comfort her any more than the hand-pat.

               “How charitable of you,” Humphrey says to Saundor, and then looks pointedly at Vex. She’s struggling to keep herself from shaking now, and can’t tell if she wants to run or punch Humphrey across his pointy full-elf face.  She opens her mouth to speak, to retaliate against such an open insult, but Humphrey quickly cuts her off. “I know Saundor has been working ever so hard lately. It’s good someone finally took it upon themselves to lend the poor sod a hand and get him some fresh air,” he says, completely turning the phrase around. Vex knows he paused on purpose. Knows he only added the second part to make it so Vex wouldn’t actually have anything to complain about. He smiles at her pleasantly.

               “Someone has to do it,” she answers, frustrated that she can’t keep the waver from her voice. She winks at Humphrey and pulls Saundor’s arm close. Probably they can’t even notice the waver. Vax would notice, but not them. Vex thumbs at the back of Saundor’s hand, itching to wring her fingers or pull at her braid.

               “Speaking of my work,” Saundor says. “I should be returning home. I have an early morning tomorrow.” Vex tries not to exhale too loudly, unwilling to show her relief because of the satisfaction it will give Victoria and Humphrey.

               “Well, you’re both dressed for bed at least,” Victoria says sweetly. She looks with an openly disdainful eye at Vex’s shirt. ”As soon as you’re home you can go to sleep.” Vex’s smile is clearly not genuine but it’s frozen on her face. She’s cold to the bone but does not shiver. She stares at Victoria with emptiness in her eyes.

               “You should be heading home too, darling,” Vex says. “It’s late and you _really_ should be getting your beauty sleep.” Vex sees Victoria’s eyelids twitch as she recognizes the insult, but it doesn’t seem to affect her otherwise. Vex sincerely wishes she knew how to play this game. How many years spent in Syngorn? And still she can’t master the quick wit and subtlety that nobles use to insult each other in good manners. Vex’s words hardly even matter anyway. After all, Victoria is beautiful.

               Humphrey and Saundor bid each other a good evening before they part. Vex and Victoria don’t break eye contact or their pleasant smiles until they’re pulled away on the arms of the gentlemen escorting them. Soft, beautiful laughter floats after Vex and Saundor as they walk away. Vex tries not to imagine what words Victoria and Humphrey are exchanging behind her back. She allows Saundor to choose their path without objection. He heads straight to his home. They pause near the side door.

               Vex, who has been quiet and introspective the entire walk back, suddenly realizes her situation. The cool emotionless façade she had slowly built up to shield against Victoria shatters. A blush creeps up the back of her neck.

               “Tonight was nice,” Vex says, a little too abruptly. Saundor nods slowly.

               “Nice, yes.” His hand is on the doorknob but he’s not turning it yet. Vex almost apologizes for showing Saundor the trees, for being silly about the first leaf of fall. He speaks before she can even start to form the words. “Lady Victoria’s dress was lovely tonight, did you notice?”

               “I did,” Vex lies outright. She hadn’t even bothered to look. Her heart falls at the mention of Victoria though.

               “I wouldn’t mind seeing you in a dress like that,” Saundor offers casually, eyes flickering briefly down Vex’s form. The blush in Vex’s neck rises to her cheeks. She brushes at her pants self-consciously.

               “Her dress wasn’t really my style,” Vex says, eyes flickering to the ground. They’re beautiful, the gowns she sees the noble elven ladies in, but Vex has never felt right in a skirt or a dress. She’s not sure why. And then there’s the matter of being able to _afford_ one.

               “It’s _the_ style,” Saundor emphasizes. He plucks momentarily at Vex’s braid which has fallen over her shoulder. “Loose hair too. Everyone’s wearing their hair down these days.” Vex’s hand instinctively trails over the careful plait of her hair. Her fingers curl around it in an almost protective manner. She looks up at Saundor, uncertain. “I’m saying that next time, if you dress in a more… refined manner, so will I,” he says, smiling. Vex’s heart plummets. She forces herself to return the smile, shakily tosses her braid over her shoulder, and folds her arms tightly across her chest.

               “Alright,” she says, aware that her voice is obviously shaking. Saundor smiles at her. He thinks she’s nervous. He thinks she can’t meet his eye because she’s shy. Thank the gods for that. “Well, goodnight!” Vex says without looking up, certain he will read the truth in her eyes if she does.

               “Goodnight Vex’ahlia,” Saundor says. Vex glances up to watch him disappear only after his back is turned. She stands still for a moment after the door clicks shut. Her fingers twist in to the fine silk shirt, nails threatening to tear the expensive fabric. The shirt she had saved for weeks to buy. The shirt that was deep green and used to remind her of the forest in the depths of summer heat. Vex’ahlia turns sharply on her heel, lower lip quivering, and she does what she’s wanted to do ever since setting her eyes on Victoria. Vex runs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #everything goes wrong immediately #my chapter titles are going to be longer than fob song titles


	3. The Price of Flying is Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vex goes to her brother for some much needed comfort. Meanwhile, Vax pleasantly passes some time with Gilmore.

               Vex’s feet carry her blindly at first as she runs. She darts immediately along side-alleys, instinct pulling her in to the safety of the shadows. She does not think to pick a particular direction until she starts to run out of breath. When her lungs start to hurt, Vex slows, and then stops. She leans against a wall to catch her breath and gain her bearings. She briskly wipes away the tears on her cheeks. The motion is furtive and quick. It’s not like anyone is around to notice, but she’s mostly trying not to acknowledge the existence of those tears to _herself_ lest more of them fall _._

               Vex’s first thought is to return home so that she can strip off this damned shirt. So she can sequester herself silently away in her room and get a grip on her emotions. _You're overreacting._ The words ring patronizingly in her head, but Vex can’t bring herself to listen to them just yet. She doesn’t _want_ to listen to them. She doesn’t want to wrap up this wound and let it fester. Not yet. So what does she want? Vex’s chest tightens, and she feels tears well up in her eyes again. Vax. She wants to talk to Vax.

               With a trembling breath, Vex pushes herself off of the wall where she’s resting. Instinct, she realizes, has taken her in the exact direction she needed to go. There’s only a short journey to be made before she can break free from the walls of Syngorn and head to the Wall where Vax will be. Vex resumes her journey at a brisk walk. Without meaning for it to happen, each step becomes a little quicker. It isn’t long before Vex is jogging along the streets. She has enough control and restraint to keep this pace until she reaches the pedestrian gate at the edge of the city.

               Vex passes over the threshold of the gate and pauses for a split second afterward. A field of tall golden grass separates her from the Wall. Far off in the distance there are no high city walls to conceal the horizon. It rises in gentle slopes, covered with serenely rippling grass. A dark navy blue veil has covered the sky and is punctuated brilliantly by hundreds of bright stars. Vex is struck breathless in the face of such open freedom. She teeters like a hiker on the precipice of a recently-conquered mountain top. Vex cranes her neck upward at the sky, vertigo seizing her senses. She starts to fall forward and before she knows it she’s taken a step to catch herself. Then another. And another. Before her fifth step Vex is sprinting once more.

 

* * *

 

 

               “So you’re saying you’ve never been tempted?” Gilmore asks. He’s perched on the ruined part of the Wall, leaning back on the weather-worn rubble like it’s a plush reclining seat. The purple silks of his robe—somehow immaculate despite Gilmore spending (as far as Vax could tell) literally all of his time at the Wall—drape over Gilmore’s form and spill like luxurious fountains over the broken stone. His wavy brown hair is pulled back into a loose fishtail braid, Vax’s handiwork, except for a few stray wisps that fall around his face. An easy smile rests on Gilmore’s face, so soft and genuine that it warms Vax to the core.

               “What? To cross the Wall?” Vax asks. He’s seated in the grass, leaning back on his palms and looking up at Gilmore. He leans briefly to peer past the man and into the field beyond. It doesn’t look particularly special. In fact, it just looks like another field. “No, not really,” he says truthfully. Gilmore raises a skeptical brow which causes Vax to laugh.

               “I don’t think I believe you,” Gilmore says, and his gentle smile breaks in to a coy grin. Vax pushes himself forward so he can raise his hands in a show of honesty.

               “I mean sure I’ve wondered what it’s like over there,” he admits, and gets to his feet. He steps up beside Gilmore to get a better look through the gap in the Wall. Gilmore tenses almost imperceptibly when Vax leans closer to the threshold. “But I don’t think I’d ever want to cross,” Vax concludes and pulls back. Gilmore chuckles, shaking his head and folding his arms over his chest.

               “Then you are quite contrary to anyone else who’s ever visited me.” The statement is spoken without any sarcasm or disdain, in fact Gilmore seems to genuinely believe Vax. There’s a fondness to his words, and a slight incredulity as well.

               “Well, what’s over there for me?” Vax asks, turning to look at Gilmore. “Vex is back in Syngorn,” he says with a gesture over his shoulder toward the city. “And I don’t know the minutia of your job or schedule, but I’ve only ever seen you on _this_ side of the wall… so…” Vax trails off gently. The world suddenly seems much smaller and much quieter. It’s just Vax, Gilmore, and the hushed whisper of wind through tall grass. Gilmore’s grin has faded. He’s not smiling, but his expression is… soft, hopeful even.

               “You’re saying you’re only interested in whichever side I’m on, then?” Gilmore asks, tilting his head a little.

               “I’m saying it’s definitely a factor,” Vax answers, voice so quiet it is nearly a whisper. He leans forward unconsciously, unable to look away from Gilmore’s eyes. Gilmore himself glances briefly toward Vax’s lips and has straightened from his reclined position so his face is just a little closer to Vax’s.

               “Well isn’t that…” Gilmore’s words trail off. Gilmore’s brow furrows and his eyes flicker over Vax’s shoulder. He tilts his head further to the side to get a better view of something that Vax currently has no interest in. “…your sister?” Vax gives a slight start. That definitely isn’t the direction he was expecting this to go, but he turns to follow Gilmore’s gaze.

               Sure enough, Vex’ahlia is running across the field toward them. Vax recognizes her green shirt and braid immediately. Reality forces its way back in. Fear and concern constrict Vax’s chest. It’s a rude awakening after such a nice moment. He looks back to Gilmore and they both know that the moment has passed. A pang of regret hits Vax’s heart, especially when he sees Gilmore’s expression. He’s concerned, but there’s a hint of sadness and regret hidden in his eyes. Vax delicately pushes a lock of hair behind Gilmore’s ear. His fingertips brush briefly against Gilmore’s jaw when he pulls his hand back.

               “Give me a minute,” he says quietly.

               “I’m counting the seconds,” Gilmore says with a weak smile. Vax gives a half laugh and turns to go. Gilmore catches his hand before he can leave. “But not actually,” he clarifies, “she looks like she needs you more than I do.” Vax gives Gilmore’s hand a squeeze.

               “Thanks,” he says, and pulls away to walk towards Vex.

 

* * *

 

               Vex collides with Vax gracelessly. Most of her mind is numb at this point, and for some reason stopping hadn’t occurred to her. Vax has to bodily wrap his arms around his sister in order to catch her. He takes a step back so they don’t both go tumbling to the ground.

               “Vex’ahlia,” he says, and Vex can hear the intense concern in his voice. She buries her face into his shoulder and clings to her brother as tight as she can. She’s shaking. She feels numb but also overwhelmed all at once. Everything is too much, and she’s detached from it but somehow it still gets to her. Vax gives her a minute of silence to catch her breath, but her breathing never stabilizes. She can’t manage to regulate it, and it’s making her lightheaded. “Vex what’s—“

               “Nothing, it’s fine,” Vex cuts him off immediately. She still has her face buried against his shoulder, so her words come out a little muffled. She’s being silly. She’s overreacting. Vax pulls Vex off of him to hold her by her shoulders. Her arms fall limp at her sides, and she can’t bring herself to meet his gaze.

               “It’s not,” he says gently. “Vex’ahlia, it’s not fine. What happened?” Vex lets out a small laugh but still doesn’t look up or say anything more. She’s still trembling, still taking quick, sharp breaths. “Here, come walk,” Vax says a little uncertainly. He leads her along by her hand for a few steps. Vex is sharply reminded of pulling Saundor along by his hand, and she briskly breaks away. She wraps her arms around herself, fingertips twisting in to the fabric of her shirt. Vax looks back at her, hand falling to his side. They both hesitate. After a beat, Vex falls into step beside her twin brother and together they trail alongside the Wall. The grass is up to their waists, and hides stones that have fallen from the Wall over the years. The two carefully, wordlessly, step around each one.

               Vax doesn’t say anything. He wants to, Vex can tell, but he carefully holds his tongue and waits. This isn’t the first time he’s seen her like this, much to Vex’s embarrassment. Twice before, she’s approached him in shambles. The first was when they were children. Someone had cut off half of her braid in a cruel trick, and Vex had fled to her brother with tears in her eyes. Vax had demanded ‘ _who?’_ and immediately set out for vengeance. His brash retaliation had only incurred more torment from their aggressors, as well as the wrath of their father. In the end, when everything had quieted, the pair clambered on to the rooftop of their home for the first time. Vax had rebraided Vex’s hair, and said she was beautiful. Vex had tended to Vax’s split lip and black eye, and said he was brave.

               The second time Vex had gone to Vax in tears, they were in their teens. She had never told him the exact circumstances, or wording of the lewd proposals and angry retorts that a group of drunk elves had yelled at her. But he had been there to comfort her anyway. Without speaking, they had both climbed to the rooftop again. Vax had mind enough not to touch his sister after she’d shied away from him, but brought her a blanket and cup of tea. He’d sat next to her and quietly told her how much she added to the world just by existing in it. Vex hadn’t touched the tea, but she’d scooted over so their shoulders touched. That single point of contact and support had brought warmth back to her bones. Vex had told Vax that he was better than every soul in Syngorn combined. He had laughed and assured her that it was true for the both of them, though not a difficult thing to accomplish given the type of people that lived in the city.

               Vex wonders how many times she can break down before Vax gets sick of comforting her. She really ought to be used to this sort of thing by now, resilient against it.

               “I went for a walk,” Vex says finally, because she’s worried Vax with her silence for too long. Her words are quick and strained. “With Saundor.” The name slips out without thinking. She regrets giving it immediately. Vax tenses next to her and he misses a beat in his stride, but says nothing. “It wasn’t him,” she says quickly, but her voice breaks. “Not… entirely. He didn’t mean…” she trails off.

               Vex’s hands are wringing around each other. She can’t think with this damned Wall next to her. It’s too much like the walls of Syngorn, rising up to trap her. She needs the rooftops. She needs the freedom of the sky without anything to cage her. Abruptly, Vex turns and digs her fingers in to the cracks and crevices of the Wall.

               “Vex, what are you--?”

               “I just need to be up high,” Vex says, breathless and a little panicky.

               “I don’t think you should climb the Wall,” Vax says nervously and glances toward the breach. He can see Gilmore standing there, face turned curiously toward them.

               “I’m not going to cross it,” Vex assures, “I just need… I need to be up high,” she repeats. The Wall isn’t that tall, maybe six or seven feet at the most. She heaves herself on top of it and sits there, knocking her heels against the stone. Vax looks up at her, arms folded.

               “Vex’ahlia.”

               “Look! It’s just a wall! I’m not crossing! I just need to—“

               “Forget the Wall,” Vax cuts her off this time. It’s not _just_ a wall. It’s the Wall. But that’s not what’s important. “I don’t care about the Wall. Vex, what happened?”

               “Nothing, it doesn’t matter,” Vex says quickly, burying her face in her hands. She shouldn’t have come. She’s pulled Vax away from Gilmore, and now she’s put the weight of her worries on his shoulders.

               “It _does_ matter,” Vax insists. “Did he say something? _Do_ something?” his voice gains a dangerous edge. Vex puts down her hands and shakes her head.

               “No, no,” she says with a little laugh. “We ran into Lord Humphrey and Lady Victoria,” she explains, and flourishes her hands and bows at her waist as she says their names. Vax’s expression flashes with a brief snarl before he can contain it. “We had a _lovely_ little chat,” Vex says, hating how wounded she sounds. “And it was _fine._ I’m used to it.” _Liar._ “And it was just them being stupid. This is just _me_ being stupid.”

               Vex can’t stop fidgeting. She pushes herself to her feet and begins to pace along the wall. Vax inhales a little sharply and presses his lips together, but doesn’t protest.

               “They’re being assholes, Vex. It’s not stupid to be upset when someone’s an asshole to you. Look, whatever they said, fuck them,” Vax says emphatically. “They don’t know a damn thing about you!” Wrong. They know enough to get under her skin apparently. “What did they say Vex?” he asks, when she doesn’t respond to him. He’s trying to find the words to make this right. Vex isn’t sure they exist. “Tell me what they said so I can tell you how wrong they were.”

               “They just…” Vex looks up at the sky and inhales deeply, trying not to let more tears fall. She shakes her head, voice breaking. “They said a lot of things, but they said my shirt…” and she trails off, her fingers smoothing out the fabric. “And then Saundor… he didn’t mean to, but he… afterward he said something too and I just,” her voice breaks. The tears fall. Vex inhales sharply to cut off a sob that’s rising in her chest. She knows her words are disjointed and almost nonsensical, but she can’t organize them into a better structure.

               Vex is pacing rapidly now, trying to keep her face pointed away from Vax so he can’t see the tears spilling down her cheeks.

               “But it’s just a shirt,” she chokes, trying to convince herself. “It’s just a shirt and I shouldn’t be so upset about it.” It’s not just a shirt. It was supposed to make her good enough. It was supposed to be her ticket in. The foot in the door to being good enough to spend time with Saundor, to be looked at with something _other_ than disdain or contempt.

               “Vex.” Vax calls gently, and Vex can hear the heartbreak in his voice.

               “Why isn’t anything ever good enough?” Vex asks, and she’s shouting now. She turns sharply on her heel and looks down at her brother. His form is blurred behind tears. “Nothing will ever be good enough for them!”

               “Vex, come down from there,” Vax says, reaching toward her. She can’t see clearly, but Vax’s voice is thick and suggests tears of his own. “Come back down to me,” He says. The words fall on deaf ears as Vex starts to gesture vehemently.

               “I could dress myself in a hundred pounds of silk, and all they would see is the bastard daughter of Syldor! I could sit on a throne of silver and gold and wear every jewel on the continent and they would never see beyond the ‘half human’ in my blood!”

               “Vex’ahlia—“

               “It would take a miracle to make me seem like anything else to them! I’d have to reach up and pluck a damn star from the sky to wear around my neck before they’d be impressed!” Vex throws her hand up as she turns, looking desperately upward and reaching for the freedom promised to her there. As she does, a streak of white flashes across the night sky. A fervent jolt of hope makes her heart skip a beat as the shooting star streaks behind her palm. Vex curls her fingertips around it, and for a split second she feels weightless. For a split second a tiny piece of freedom rests in her hand and she imagines leaping from the rooftops into that endless free-fall.

               And then the shooting star streaks away. Freedom slips though her fingertips just like it always does. Her hand is closed around empty air… but the feeling of falling doesn’t go away. And Vex realizes it’s because she is actually falling. Distantly she hears Vax shout her name. She’s looking up at the night sky, illuminated by stars as she falls. And then there’s a sharp pain that lances through the side of her head and all the stars go out.


	4. A Father, A Letter, A Brother, A Feather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After taking a spill off the Wall, Vex wakes to two unexpected visitors and two mysteries.

The first thing Vex is aware of in the darkness is a distant pounding in her skull. Her thoughts are impossibly, frustratingly sluggish. For a second the dark incites fear of blindness and Vex panics. She bolts upright at the same time she realizes her eyes are closed. She opens them as she jolts up, and regrets both actions immediately.

The sudden movement sends a wave of intense nausea and dizziness through her body, along with a not insignificant amount of pain. The bright morning light stabs brutally at her eyes and makes her squint, but she does not close them. She has no idea what’s going on, no memory of how she got here. The fear of blindness has subsided, but fear of the unknown persists.

Vex recognizes a presence in the room before her eyes can focus. She blinks blearily, because it’s taking an unusually long time for things to stop being blurry. A dark shape stands at the foot of her bed--she’s in her bed back home. Vex assumes it is Vax. Of course it’s Vax, who else would be there? Nobody else cared enough to stand at her bedside.

“Vax?” she asks, voice raspy and quiet. “What happened?” She’s grateful that she can’t manage to speak louder, because even this coarse whisper rings painfully in her ears. Vex brings one hand up to touch gingerly at the source of the throbbing headache in her skull. Sharp waves of pain ripple out from her fingertips like a thousand little pinpricks. She winces and drops her hand. It takes a minute for Vex to realize Vax hasn’t said anything.

Vex refocuses on the foot of her bed where the figure stands. It’s… Vex leans forward a little, not comprehending. It’s not Vax. It’s far too lithe and tall to be her brother. Vex slowly pulls back and a shiver dances down her spine. The rest of the room has come into focus, but the figure is still blurry. It’s strangely proportioned, and robed in darkness. Where a face ought to be there is a gleaming white disc, vaguely humanoid in shape with only two empty holes where eyes ought to be. As Vex opens her mouth to call for her brother, she blinks, and the figure is gone.

Vex sits there with her heart pounding, and her mouth open, ready to yell. She is still for what feels like a very long time, trying to gather her thoughts. It must’ve been some sort of night terror or hallucination. She had obviously been hit very hard in the head. Vex slowly leans back into her bed, taking comfort in the warmth of her blankets. After a moment, she forgets about the unfamiliar figure. Vex’s eyes drift closed and casts her thoughts back to the last thing she can remember.

She remembers… red. A bleeding heart of red in a swath of dark green. She remembers a chorus of tiny bells, beautiful and terrible. She remembers the sweeping of a velvet cloak and long, loose bronze hair. She remembers running. In her mind she sees an endless maze of buildings and roads and for a time she loses track of herself in that memory. It isn’t until Vex can feel despair welling up in her chest that she runs straight into the memory of Vax.

Vax. Strong and comforting and always there. Her twin brother. Her best friend. Everything else is blurry but she remembers him holding her fast. She remembers drying her tears against his shoulder. She remembers him saying her name… saying it many times actually. Each iteration rings in her ears. Confusion. Concern. Stern. Heartbroken. Terrified. Desperate.

Vex’ahlia remembers a streak of light, and the feeling of falling. No, not just the _feeling_ of falling, _actually_ falling. She remembers the stars going black. And then she remembers everything else. The confusing snippets snap into painful clarity. All of the raw hurt and desperation of the previous evening returns in full force.

Vex takes a sharp breath, but before she has a chance to process the surge of memory and emotion there’s a series of knocks at her door. Her watering eyes follow the noise suspiciously. The knocks are sharp, measured, and orderly. Vax’ildan doesn’t knock like that. Vex swallows the bile that immediately rises in her throat. She pushes herself upright in bed and props her pillow up behind her. She ignores the pain pulsing in her head and smooths out her shirt--she’s still wearing the green silk, she realizes--and the blankets. Vex’s eyes dart feverishly around the room. It’s sparsely furnished, and therefore relatively easy to keep clean, but she has some clothes hanging on the open drawer of her dresser. Briefly she considers leaping across the bed to shove the clothes in the drawer and then slide it shut. The thought is dizzying, and there’s another knock at the door, more insistent this time.

Vex pulls her braid over her shoulder and twists the end of it briefly between her fingertips.

“Come in,” she calls, folding her hands neatly in her lap, and trying her best not to wince at the loudness of her own voice. The door opens an inch, pauses, and then swings open all the way. A tall, pale figure stands in the doorway. He’s dressed in light cream robes, luxurious and accented with black and gold trim. His hair is long and black and drapes freely around his face. His completely impassive face.

“Vex’ahlia,” he greets. Is that a flicker of concern in his voice? Certainly it can’t be. He glances around her room. His eyes pause on the open drawer of her dresser before flicking to Vex. Instinctively she lifts her chin a fraction.

“Father,” she answers. There’s a moment of tense silence. Syldor lingers on the threshold of Vex’s room for a beat, and then takes a single step in. His arms are folded carefully in front of him, hands tucked into his sleeves.

“Are you feeling well?” Syldor asks. Vex blinks, the question takes her completely off guard. Syldor speaks almost like an automaton reading a script, but that he even asks the question is something to note.

“Well enough,” Vex answers. The rasp of her voice betrays the lie, but neither of them are willing to drop the charade of forced politeness. “Where’s Vax?” she asks tentatively. The question is innocuous by itself, but holds the underlying query of ‘why are _you_ here?’. Syldor gives a soft ‘ah’ and steps forward. Vex shifts slightly as he approaches her bedside and pulls his hands out from his sleeves. There’s a slightly wrinkled envelope held between his long slender fingertips.

The envelope must be from Vax. There’s no way Syldor would ever allow his stationary to be anything other than crisp and pristine. Vex has to stop herself from impulsively reaching out and snatching the envelope from Syldor’s hand. She’s a little upset that Vax isn’t here in person, but there must be a good reason. He wouldn’t leave her side for some petty trifle, especially not after she’d been hurt.

“Your brother left this for you,” Syldor says, “he departed early this morning after the healer was finished with you. Some… business across the _Wall_ that he could not be dissuaded from.” Vex’s surprise and confusion shows openly across her face before she can contain it. She opens her mouth, about to ask Syldor to repeat himself because surely she heard him wrong. Her hand lifts toward the letter, looking between the yellowed parchment and the man who holds it.

“Across the Wall?” she repeats with open incredulity, the pretense of polite society dropping momentarily. “What on earth is he doing there?” People don’t just cross the Wall, it must be a mistake. Or a lie. Syldor’s expression says he doesn’t believe Vax has crossed the Wall either. Vax must’ve used it as a cover for his real destination. Or perhaps it wasn’t so much a cover as it was a flippant way of saying ‘mind your own damn business’. Despite all of this, when she speaks there’s a clear note of pain in Vex’s voice. She doesn’t much care what Vax is doing, she cares that he’s not here where she needs him. There _must_ be a good explanation. _There must be_. Syldor drops the envelope in Vex’s hand and then raises his palms.

“He was recalcitrant when I asked for an explanation,” Syldor says, a harsh sting to his words. Vex forces her expression into passivity again, because if she doesn’t it will show open contempt for her father’s disdain. She is sure Vax has his reasons, and she’s also sure he doesn’t owe any of those reasons to Syldor.

Vex turns the letter over in her hands and notices there’s a wax seal on it. It’s a simple stamp, the image of a snake twisting around itself. A tiny smile curls on Vex’s lips. The seal is unbroken. Undoubtedly there are answers in that letter, answers that Vax had refused to give Syldor. Answers Syldor hasn’t been able to snoop on without breaking that seal and showing his hand. He never seems to care much about it, but Vax has always been good at playing the nobleman’s game when it suits his needs.

Vex savors the sweetness of the moment of holding the envelope in her hands with Syldor waiting to see her open it. She carefully sets it on the table at her bedside, just out of Syldor’s reach. She can hear him give a soft exhale. He shifts and glances down as he laces his fingers in front of him.

“The healer suggested you take it easy for a while,” Syldor says after clearing his throat slightly. “No strenuous activity, and a lot of rest.” His voice is stern, almost lecturing, but not particularly unkind. Syldor’s fingers twitch, almost like he’s about to reach out to touch Vex’s shoulder, but they remain folded together. Instead he says, “There will be someone stopping by to check on you later.”

 _Someone._ Not Syldor himself. Vex suspects that the only reason he is present now, is because he had hoped to see Vex open the letter. The thought leaves a bitter taste in Vex’s mouth. In the very back of her mind she had entertained the thought that maybe Syldor was visiting her out of concern. That maybe somewhere deep down he actually gave a damn about his bastard children… if he does, it’s _very_ deep down. Just another person Vex and Vax aren’t good enough for.

“Thank you,” Vex says primly and adjusts her covers. She looks up at him expectantly. Syldor presses his lips together, and then gives a slight nod of his head before retreating.

“Rest well,” he says as he exits. His eyes pass over the open drawer once more as he crosses the room. He leaves without another word, and pulls the door closed behind him.

The envelope is in Vex’s hand as soon as she hears the door click shut. She’s suddenly exhausted, and the tears she had pushed away upon hearing Syldor’s knock now spring back to her eyes. She has to take several long minutes to close her eyes and compose herself. This time it’s not a mask for her father or a façade to present to Victoria. This time it’s a careful sorting of her emotions, rationalizing things away, shelving them deep in her mind to be dealt with later.

Vex lets out a strong, measured breath. The persistent painful throb of a headache becomes the dominant issue in her head. She’ll be content if it stays that way. It does nobody any good to come undone like that. If she’d just managed to control herself, none of this would’ve happened. She can keep herself under control for now, and after she has the chance to speak with Vax, she’s sure everything will be firmly back in order. Vex wipes her eyes, takes another deep breath, and then confronts the envelope.

Vex’s fingers deftly pry open the wax seal. She pulls out a piece of folded parchment, and as she does something falls on to her lap. She glances down and picks up a single dark feather. At first she mistakes it for a crows’, but as Vex turns it over in her fingertips the light reveals the blueish-purple sheen characteristic of a raven feather. Odd. Vex spins the feather between her fingertips curiously for a moment, and then sets it carefully on her side table. Hopefully there’s an explanation for this as well.

Vex carefully unfolds the wrinkled parchment. She immediately recognizes Vax’s unruly handwriting. His lettering, usually described by Vex’s internal monologue as ‘slapdash at best’, has been made even worse with apparent haste.  Vax never much cared to practice his writing. Vex always chastised him for it, but never with much force. Seeing his hastily scrawled hand is almost like seeing him—a young boy with hair in his face, bent over his desk and more intent on doodling than repeating elven script over and over. Vex runs her fingers over the lightly smudged ink lettering, and reads.

_Stubby,_

_Sorry to have Syldor deliver this to you, but I’d rather it be him than one of his lackeys. Come to think of it, he may hand it off to one of them anyway... The envelope this letter came in was supposed to be sealed. If it wasn’t, some asshole has been snooping._

_In case you don’t remember, you took a bit of a spill off the Wall last night and hit your head pretty hard. The healers say you’ll be alright if you take it easy for a while. AKA don’t go to work for a week or so. That prick, Drez Vina can balance his books himself for a week without you. Or better yet, he can’t, and he’ll realize how good you are with numbers and start paying you a proper wage. Don’t worry about the money for the week, I convinced Syldor to give a little extra in our monthly stipend. Guess he’s not as bad as he seems most of the time. (Unless he’s reading this right now. In which case, fuck you.)_

_I wanted to stay until you woke, but something has come up. I’ll be traveling across the Wall. I’m not sure how long I’ll be, but I’m hoping to return within a couple of months. I’d explain if I could, but I barely understand what’s happening myself. The feather in the envelope is for you. I’d tell you about that too but… again, I’ve got no fucking clue what’s going on. Humor your brother and just keep it with you, yeah?_

_Also, about Victoria and Humphrey. They don’t deserve the time of day from you. They’re jerks, and they’ll say anything to get under your skin. Whatever they said, they’re dead wrong. You’re worth a hundred of them. And maybe don’t take any more late night strolls through the city for a little while. If you’re antsy for a walk, go visit Gilmore during the day. I’m sure he’d be happy to see you._

_I’m really glad you’re alright, Vex._

_Don’t scare me like that again. Not ever._

_With Love,_

_Vax_

 

Vex puts down the letter having received more questions than answers. She has to reread the part that says “I’ll be traveling across the Wall” and “I’m hoping to return within a couple of months” because it doesn’t register the first three times her eyes cross over it. He’s _actually_ across the Wall then? And for a couple of months? Vax hasn’t been away that long since… ever. They’ve never been apart that long. A terrible hollow feeling gnaws at Vex’s chest. Her fingers curl around the parchment, crumpling it some. _I need you now, not in a few months, brother._ Vex has a moment of self-pity, and then there’s a sharp stab of guilt that snaps her out of it. Here she is whimpering about some petty insults, and some mysterious business has pulled her brother _across the Wall._

“More important things, Vex’ahlia,” she mutters under her breath, a little irritated with herself. “More important things are happening than your whining.” Vex combs the letter again for more answers, but finds none. She sets it down and instead retrieves the raven feather. Vex runs it between her fingers, and turns it over several times in her hands. She examines the shaft, thumbs the fibers apart and then smooths them back. The letter insinuates that there’s something more to it, but as far as Vex can tell it’s just an ordinary feather. She considers it for a moment longer, and then impulsively tucks it behind her ear. Mundane or not, it’s from Vax. She would have kept it with her even if he hadn’t asked her to.

Vex absently fiddles with her braid while she thinks. Something had happened between her fall and her awakening that had pulled Vax away.  For the life of her, she cannot imagine what it could be. Vax leaving her side was mysterious enough on its own. Vax leaving her side to cross the Wall and giving no explanation as to why? That was borderline suspicious and almost unbelievable… She’s still not convinced. Vex frowns deeply, and slowly swings her legs out of bed. Every movement sends a wave of discomfort through her body from her skull. She ignores it. It’s manageable if she goes slowly.

So Vex carefully gets out of bed. She peels off her clothes from the previous evening and puts on a fresh pair of breeches, and a simple long sleeved tunic. After a moment of consideration, Vex pulls on a leather vest lined with coarse, warm black fur. She pauses in front of the mirror to check herself over. The braid pulled over her shoulder is a little frayed from her recent adventures. Vex lifts her hands to undo the braid and comb out her hair, but a stab of sentimentality stops her. Vax had braided her hair, and wouldn’t be around to redo it for a long time… Vex carefully preens over it for several minutes without actually undoing the tie. The final result is still a little messy, but it’s serviceable for at least one more day.

Vex straightens the vest and then tucks Vax’s letter into the inside pocket. She takes a few experimental strides around her room. She’s a little off-balance, and has to take care with her steps, but it’s manageable. Her head aches, but she can ignore that. There’s more important things afoot than worrying about a little headache. Vex suspects that Vax had expected Syldor to open and read the letter. That must be the reason he was so stingy with any details. Very little in that letter made any sort of sense, but Vax had been clear about two things. First, to keep the feather with her. Second, to pay a visit to a certain friend. So with a raven feather tucked securely behind one ear, Vex departs from her home and plots a path toward the Wall and more specifically, to Gilmore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the award for Not As Big of A Douche As You Could Have Been goes to Syldor!


	5. What's Left Behind When We Move Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vex goes to Gilmore to get some answers, and meets with very little success. Fortunately, our stubborn protagonist won't be dissuaded and finds another path to take.

               It takes Vex a considerable amount of time to make it out of Syngorn. Last night she had been able to sprint full speed through the empty streets. Now she’s stuck moving at a careful walk. She has to shift her weight delicately with every step, because each time Vex puts a foot down and moves, her head throbs. On top of that, she’s traveling through the most remote and unpopulated side streets and alleyways she knows of. She doesn’t have the patience or mental fortitude to deal with any judging eyes today, let alone judging words. The thought of running into Victoria sends genuine terror into Vex’s heart, and forces her to move with even more caution.

               The sun has curved well beyond its zenith and into the late afternoon hours when Vex finally steps through the pedestrian gate and into the open fields beyond. Vex squints toward the Wall, trying to make out Gilmore’s figure. She can see the breach in the Wall, but not the man who usually guards it. The sun is to her back in the east, and casts long shadows across the field in front of her. The dark shade cast by Syngorn’s walls stretches out ominously in front of her, blanketing the field of long grass in half-darkness. Vex takes a deep steadying breath, and continues her walk forward.

               As she walks, Vex fantasizes about finding Vax at the wall with Gilmore. She imagines him looking up at her, stopping mid-conversation to smile and greet her. She imagines him raising his brows and saying ‘Your hair's a mess’ before insisting on redoing the braid. As Vex traverses the field and draws closer to the Wall, she knows for certain that this fantasy won’t become reality. Vax is nowhere to be seen.

               Vex steps out of the shadow of Syngorn’s walls, and takes some comfort in the warmth of the evening sun on her back. She can see Gilmore now, sitting on the broken stones of the Wall. His back is to her, and he’s gazing wistfully into the distance. Vex looks beyond the lone Guardian and through the portal of the Wall. It doesn’t look like anything other than a continuation of the field she is currently walking in. She can see the beginnings of a tree line far in the distance, but nothing else.

               “Hello Vex’ahlia,” Gilmore greets without turning around. Vex stops about ten feet away from Gilmore, wondering exactly how acute his hearing is. Nobody ever seems to surprise him. He slowly turns his head to look over his shoulder at her. He looks tired. That fact alone strikes a strange chord with Vex. She can’t remember Gilmore ever looking tired. For some reason it has never occurred to her that he could be anything other than charming, animated, and lively. He reads the concern in her expression, and he offers her a smile as he slips from his perch and walks over to her. “It’s good to see you alright,” he says smoothly and rests both of his hands on her shoulders. The weight of his touch is comforting, and for a second Vex feels fragile. She’s tempted to step forward and hug him, but restrains herself.

               “Where’s Vax?” she asks, voice still a little cracked. Gilmore looks surprised and frowns.

               “Didn’t he tell you?” he asks. Vex watches Gilmore’s expression carefully.

               “Did he tell _you_?” she presses, fingers flexing at her side. Gilmore’s hands drop from her shoulders and he tilts his head at her.

               “He’s across the Wall, Vex.” The words are gentle, and Gilmore doesn’t seem like he’s trying to deceive her… but Vex can’t help but still suspect it’s a lie. People just don’t _cross_ the Wall. She’s exhausted, and forgets again to guard her expression. Gilmore moves to put an arm around her shoulder. “Come sit,” he offers gently. Vex doesn’t resist when he leads her to the Wall, but she does look up at it hesitantly. She’s suddenly struck by the gut-dropping memory of falling. Instinctively she reaches up and wraps her fingers around Gilmore’s free forearm for support.

               “Everyone keeps saying he’s across the Wall,” Vex says, looking back at Gilmore. Her fingers tighten around his arm. “You don’t let anyone across the wall, Gilmore. You’ve never let anyone across the Wall.” Gilmore puts his hand over hers and bows his head to look her in the eye.

               “Your brother isn’t just anyone,” he says gently, and guides her into sitting on the worn stones. That at least, Vex knows, is the truth. She lets go of Gilmore and twists her fingers together. She thinks of the letter tucked away in her vest pocket. Vax would lie in his letter for fear of Syldor reading it. Syldor would lie to Vex about her brother traveling across the Wall. But here, with nobody else around to run interference, Gilmore wouldn’t lie to Vex. She takes another deep breath. Alright, so Vax actually _is_ across the Wall. That still leaves the most important question unanswered.

               “Why did he leave?” Vex asks. Gilmore folds his arms and wets his lips. A flash of suspicion creeps in to Vex’s heart as she watches his eyes flicker to the raven feather tucked behind her ear.

               “He asked me not to say,” Gilmore says finally. Vex blinks at him, bewildered.

               “But you know?” It’s more of a statement than a question. Vex leans forward a little, frowning deeply as Gilmore nods an affirmative. “You know and you won’t tell me?”

               “Vax asked me not to tell you,” Gilmore repeats, a little strained. The pain of that statement settles in to Vex’s heart belatedly. There is very little that she and Vax don’t share with each other. Knowing that Vax has shared information with someone else, and refused to give it to _her_ definitely stings… but that isn’t Gilmore’s fault. The human has a wide, powerful stance, as though trying to hold his ground. His arms are folded tightly across his chest, and there’s a muscle working in his jaw. He’s clearly just as unhappy with these circumstances as Vex.

               “Gilmore… what happened last night?” she asks after a moment of silence. Gilmore shifts his weight, and Vex thinks again how strange it is to see him so agitated. Vex doesn’t relent. “I fall and knock myself unconscious. And when I wake up, Vax is across the Wall. The Wall where fairytales about magic and fey-folk come from. The Wall you don’t let anyone cross. Fill in the blanks for me, please.” She folds her arms, a deep fear and guilt rising in the back of her mind.

               “Vax asked me—“

               “—not to say,” Vex finishes, exasperated. She laughs, and can hear the tired desperation in the half-strangled noise. Gilmore looks at her guiltily, apologetic. Vex wants to be angry at him for not telling her, wants to be angry at Vax for asking Gilmore to keep the secret, but she can’t. Any anger is smothered by the rising sense of guilt in her own heart. She looks away, trying to muster the courage to ask her next question. The sun is sinking ever lower into the sky, throwing the shadow of Syngorn’s walls even further across the field. She can see the darkness creeping toward her like black sand pouring into the base of an hourglass.

               “He’s across the wall because of me, isn’t he?” she asks, voice quiet when she finally turns her attention back to Gilmore. It’s unfair of her to ask, because not answering is an answer in itself. Vex watches a muscle work in Gilmore’s jaw. His eyes gleam at her as he recognizes the trick of her question. His expression is all the answer she needs. The guilt that has been slowly building to a crescendo finally breaks and washes over Vex. A pulse of pain rings through her head and she leans forward, putting her hands over her face. She sits there with her elbows on her knees and her head propped in her palms. Her fingers massage lightly at her temples. It’s her fault.

               “It’s not your fault,” Gilmore says, reading her mind. He steps forward and puts a heavy, reassuring hand on her shoulder when he speaks. Vex doesn’t look up until she’s sure she won’t cry.

               “It’s my fault,” she states. Gilmore makes a face at her.

               “Vex’ahlia,” he chastises.

               “It’s my fault,” Vex repeats harshly. Gilmore shakes his head and gives a sad little laugh.

               “Just as stubborn as your brother,” he mutters. For some reason that brings a smile to the edges of Vex’s mouth. “It’s not your fault,” he emphasizes. “What happened was… unpredictable. There are powerful forces at work across the Wall, and I suspect they played no small part in how events unfolded last night. You are not to blame.” Unsurprisingly, the words don’t assuage any of Vex’s guilt. Additionally they don’t make her worry any less for her brother.

               “Powerful forces that my brother is now caught up in?” she guesses grimly. Gilmore presses his lips together, frustrated but amused.

               “The relentless persistence you share with your brother is endearing.”

               “It’s why you like Vax so much,” Vex says. Half of her says it to try and coax Gilmore into telling her more. The other half of her says it because she often gets to tease Vax about liking Gilmore, but the reverse opportunity rarely presents itself.

               “It’s one of the reasons,” Gilmore admits.

               “Is he in danger?” Vex asks, watching Gilmore’s face closely. A flicker of concern crosses his expression before he can stop it.

               “It’s inherently dangerous across the Wall,” Gilmore admits. “Some of it is the same kind of danger you’ll find here,” he gestures toward Syngorn, “And some of it is… a different kind of danger.”

               “The fairytale kind of danger,” Vex supplies helpfully. Gilmore eyes her with an expression that says _‘I know what you’re doing’_ and doesn’t respond. The shadow of Syngorn’s wall falls over him. Vax is on some strange journey because of her, and may or may not be assailed by magical forces beyond either of their grasp or understanding. Vex would say she’s made up her mind about what to do next… but that would imply that there was even another option she’d considered. She straightens out her back and swings her legs around so that her feet dangle on the opposite side of the Wall. Gilmore doesn’t break eye contact with her until she turns her back on him, twisting in her seat. As she does, she shrugs Gilmore’s hand off of her shoulder.

               Vex makes as if to boost herself off of the Wall and start walking, but a strange sensation overcomes her. It starts as an unusual tingling at the base of her skull, and Vex instinctively braces against it. She throws her will against a strange invisible force that wraps its fingers around her, but doesn’t manage to save herself from its grasp. Her muscles freeze. Vex can’t move an inch. Her heart beats out a panicked rhythm against her ribcage. What the hell is this?

               “You’ve recently suffered a major injury,” Gilmore says behind her, voice completely at ease. “I’m guessing it took you the better part of the afternoon to make your way out here. You’re too slow to catch up to him, and too hurt to defend yourself out there.” A flash of indignation rises in Vex’s throat. She wants to insist that she _can_ and _will_ be able to look after herself and catch up to Vax, but her jaw is clamped shut. It also crosses her mind that if creatures across the Wall can do… whatever it is Gilmore is doing to her right now, she wouldn’t stand a chance against it. “You’re not going after him.”

               The shadow of Syngorn’s wall finally catches up to Vex and cloaks her in darkness. Gilmore’s hand rests on Vex’s shoulder one more time. A soothing sensation spreads from his fingertips and washes over her. Vex feels her muscles relax, but a tense apprehension still grips her heart. Gilmore is more than some nicely dressed human Vax visits at the Wall. A handful of fairytales about magical guardians dance through Vex’s head. She draws a shaking breath, and suppresses a shiver, but otherwise doesn’t move.

               “What am I supposed to do then?” she asks finally, not looking back at Gilmore. “Stay behind here while he goes up against Gods know what?” Vex watches the dusk creep beyond the Wall, and envies it. At this rate that shadow will catch up to her brother before she does.

               “You’re supposed to rest, let your body heal itself. You’re in no condition to travel.” Gilmore’s hand is firm on her shoulder. Vex heaves a sigh, reluctantly accepting the truth in Gilmore’s words. His grip on her softens slightly as he realizes she isn’t going to try and make a break for it. Vex looks over her shoulder at him helplessly.

               “We’ve never been apart,” she says. The smile on her face is there to try and convince the both of them that she’s being silly, that the distance between her and Vax doesn’t really matter. It fools neither of them. Gilmore offers his own smile.

               “Vax is quicker and cleverer than most,” he reassures, “he’ll be back before you know it.” Vex doubts it, and she’s sure it shows on her face. But Gilmore’s phrasing tickles a memory in the back of Vex’s mind. She blinks, the beginnings of a new plan suddenly emerging from the ashes of her despair. She’s quick to guard her expression this time.

               “So Gilmore… that freezing trick? Don’t suppose you could teach it to me? I wouldn’t mind using it on one or two people back in Syngorn,” Vex comments casually, changing the subject to divert his attention. He accepts the change of topic and steps back to allow Vex to turn back toward him.

               “It’s an innate talent I’m afraid,” he says with an easy, apologetic smile.

               “Is it? You’ve said yourself I’m very stubborn, are you sure I can’t learn?” Vex jokes, grinning.

               “I would say I’m sure, but knowing you and your brother... no absolute is safe against your persistence.” The banter is familiar and comforting.

               “Is that the only trick you have up your sleeve?” Vex asks.

               “I think you’ll find that, when pressed, I’m full of surprises,” Gilmore answers, and winks at her. Vex laughs.

               “Y’know, I think Vax has said that about you before,” she replies, and winks back. A slight tint rises in Gilmore’s cheeks, but he grins at her unabashedly.

               “Is that so? Well, I’m glad to hear—“

               “Miss Vex’ahlia?” a new voice interjects, cutting Gilmore off. Vex gives a slight start, having failed to notice anyone approach. Gilmore only rolls his eyes, unsurprised, and apparently miffed that the newcomer had failed to wait his turn to speak. Vex leans to look around Gilmore, a little frown on her face. There’s only one type of person who would address her as ‘Miss Vex’ahlia’ and it’s the type of person being paid by her father to do so. Syldor did warn her that someone would be by the house to check up on her. Vex is surprised that the lackey actually sought her out after discovering she wasn’t at home.

               “Yes?” she asks, irritated. The elf makes an effort not to look openly annoyed and inconvenienced by this whole circumstance. Syldor must be paying him well.

               “Your father asked me to see you back to Syngorn and safely home.” Well that’s an uncharacteristic amount of concern from Syldor. Vex glances back at Gilmore, who is looking at her with raised brows. She shrugs at him and slides off of her seat on the Wall. Vex doesn’t anticipate her feet failing her, but Gilmore thankfully does. As her legs falter, he swoops forward and snatches her arm to support her. She holds onto him tightly, cheeks bright with frustration and embarrassment.

               “Thank you, darling,” she whispers, clinging to him until her footing solidifies.

               “Any time,” Gilmore says gently. Vex leans up and kisses him lightly on the cheek. He smiles at her and says, “You’re welcome to visit any time,” as she lets go of his arm. Vex nods, takes a breath, and then walks carefully over to her escort. He hesitates for a second, and then offers his arm. Vex lifts her chin imperceptibly.

               “I’ll be alright,” she says. The elf lowers his arm, but Vex is vividly aware of him watching her as they proceed. She also feels Gilmore’s eyes on her the entire walk back to Syngorn. Briefly she wonders if he knows she has another plan, if he saw the flicker of it on her face before she tried to distract him. If this evening was any indicator, Gilmore definitely knew more than she expected. He hadn’t said anything to her though… Vex isn’t sure what to make of that—if there’s even anything to be made of it. She’s quiet the entire walk home, and her escort seems just fine with that.

               The elf reminds her to eat something, to get lots of rest and not exert herself, and tells her that someone will be by in the morning to check on her. Vex nods, intending to do at least one of those things. She enters her home and starts to prepare a meal. As she does, she pulls together several days travel rations, and pulls a backpack from a closet to pack it in. She and Vax used to do this as kids, pack up and set out for an adventure in the woods. Syldor always had someone retrieve them before they got too far. _Not this time_. Vex thinks as she carefully shoulders the backpack and makes her way back to her room.

               Vex kneels down and pulls a board away from the floor underneath her bed. She lifts a small  pouch from the hiding spot. The coins inside jingle quietly as she tucks the pouch away into the backpack. Vex then reaches for the second thing hidden away beneath the floorboards. With reverence, she picks up a small wooden box and blows dust off of the cover. She sets it on the floor and opens it. Inside, in a nest of soft, dry wood trimmings, is a yellowed parchment and a long back candle. Vex pulls out the parchment and runs her fingertips gingerly over it. The words on it are slanted and willowy, written with an elegance that Vex has always tried to emulate.

 

_My darling Vex’ahlia and Vax’ildan,_

_It pains me deeply to be parted from you two, but circumstances demand our separation, and you will be safe in the care of your father at Syngorn. One day, when you’re older, your father will explain why I sent you away. For now, I hope you can forgive me for doing it._

_Look out for each other. Even though we must be parted, you two should always stick together. Keep this candle with you at all times, and if ever you are separated you can use it to be reunited. The quickest way to travel is by candlelight. If the need arises, hold the candle tight, light it, and think only of each other._

_I hope we are not apart for too long._

_All my love,_

_Mother_

 

               Vex has only very faint memories of her mother. They are happy flashes of bright warm days, of folding linens, of laughing and warm hearths. Vex and Vax never did find out why they were sent to Syngorn. After receiving word of their mother’s death, Syldor rarely spoke about her, as if he wished to forget she’d even existed. Vex holds the letter in her hands, and then folds it carefully. She tucks it into her pocket alongside Vax’s note and presses her hand to both. Two precious lifelines to the only family she’s ever cared about.

               Vex lifts the candle from the box next. It’s thick and lumpy, and has a golden wick sticking out of one end. Before tonight, Vex has always assumed that her mother’s instructions for the candle were simple trickery to quell the monsters that children dream up when they’re frightened or alone. She’d never imagined that the candle might actually be magic—some remnant of a world long since left to the decay of history, preserved only in fairytales. But tonight, with Vax far, far away, Vex is hoping beyond hope for a shred of magic. Just once, she’d like things to go her way when it really matters.

               After a moment of consideration, Vex puts the box back in the hiding spot and replaces the floorboard. Candle and backpack in tow, Vex carefully squirms out of her window and onto the rooftop. Night has fallen completely now, and the stars have winked to life. Vex holds the candle tightly in one hand and reaches into her backpack to retrieve a match with the other.

               Gilmore’s voice quietly argues with Vex in the back of her mind. She’s still hurt. She’s tired. She’ll probably slow down Vax in whatever journey he is taking… but she doesn’t care. It’s her fault he’s across the Wall. She’s going to help fix this. So what if she slows them down? As long as she’s at Vax’s side, the duration of their trip doesn’t matter. And above all else, Vax is her twin brother and best friend. Vex won’t stand idly by while he walks toward danger. She flicks her thumbnail against the head of the match, and a tiny flame bursts into life.

               The fire flickers as Vex brings it toward the wick of the candle. She thinks of Vax. She thinks of his face, brow knitted together in an almost constant state of concern and thoughtfulness. She thinks of him sitting behind her, braiding her hair. She thinks of his voice, of him saying her name. She thinks of Vax calling to her while she paced on the Wall. The fire of the match touches the wick and an intense heat coils up around her. There’s a sharp jolt as the ground is snatched away from her feet, and the feeling of falling seizes Vex’s stomach once more. She thinks of Vax calling her name one last time. She thinks that this feels exactly like falling from the wall the night before. And she thinks of the shooting star that slipped so easily between her fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've all been waiting so patiently to meet our Star. I'm sorry it took this long, in my defense I thought it would happen 2 chapters ago but as I was writing I went 'oh god I need actual reasons for people to do things I can't just have them run willy nilly after fallen stars' and had to add more stuff.
> 
> SO HEY. Our Star shows up next chapter! Thanks for sticking with it so far ;D


	6. A Dealmaker Rises From the Dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vex doesn't get the answers she was searching for... but she does meet someone new, and makes a deal.

               For a few exhilarating moments of candlelight-travel Vex’ahlia is completely free. She’s moving at a breathtaking speed, too fast to make out the details of anything around her beyond long-stretching blurs of color. She feels like a hawk in a full dive, streaking through the air without a care in the world beyond the wind and open sky. She can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up in her lungs and spills from her lips.

               Her mirth turns sharply into alarm when everything suddenly slows down and the world comes reeling back into focus. She’s still flying through the air, but whatever the magic of the candle is it’s definitely waning. Before she can think to brace or catch herself, Vex collides harshly into something--or rather, _someone._ They let out a yelp of distress and pain as Vex slams into them and then goes rolling to a painful stop on the ground.

               Stars explode in front of Vex’s eyes, and intense pain shoots through her head and ripples through the rest of her aching body. She lets out a quiet groan and gives herself a moment to stew in that lingering pain. Vex distantly realizes that there’s still a stub of a candle clutched in her fist. She slowly pockets the remainder. Then, with equal slowness, she pushes herself up on an elbow. She slips and has to catch herself because the world is still spinning and the ground is surprisingly sleek.

               “Shit that was--incredible. Fuck. Ow,” she says and gingerly touches her head. Her face stings, and she can feel blood starting to bead along a cut on her cheek. Her skull, luckily, still seems to be in one piece, though her ears are ringing fiercely. “Sorry Vax, I’ve never _flown_ with a candle before,” she continues, rubbing her eyes which are refusing to focus on the dark outline of her brother that is struggling to pick itself up off the ground. “Can you believe that old candle actually works? The one mother gave us? _Real magic!_ ” she babbles, suddenly nervous and slowly getting to her feet. “And before you get mad at me for following you, really you should’ve left more of an explanation, or taken me with you. There’s no way I--”

               Vex stops talking sharply as her vision finally clears. She freezes in the middle of dusting herself off. The man on the ground struggling to rise is definitely _not_ Vax. He’s a little taller and thinner, and has broader shoulders--though that’s not difficult considering Vax’s slim build. And instead of long black locks, this man has a shock of short white hair.

               “Whoever you are, you flying, laughing maniac, I can say for certain I am not who you think I am.” He speaks without looking up, fingers rifling through the dust around him searchingly. His voice is smooth like fine silk, and Vex can’t help but immediately compare it to the refined tones of noblemen back in Syngorn. Instinctively she raises her chin and squares her shoulders. She spares a quick glance to her surroundings, feeling unprepared and exposed.

               Vex is standing in a massive crater. It’s about fifteen feet deep at the center, and the dirt has been turned into glass. There’s a faint coating of ash and dust overtop the glassy surface. It’s hovering around Vex’s feet like an ominous fog cloud, stirred up by the motion of her standing. A small trail of the faux-fog is just starting to settle after Vex’s turbulent entrance. Another plume of the fine particles swirl weakly around the poor man Vex had accidentally landed on. He’s still splayed on the ground, propped on one elbow, holding himself like he’s injured. A tug of guilt pulls at Vex’s heart, piercing through her confusion.

               “You’re… not Vax,” she says, and carefully walks forward.

               “An incredibly astute observation, also completely redundant given my initial statement.” His expression is pained, but he still manages to roll his eyes despite the grimace across his features. Vex stops a few steps away from him. He speaks like a nobleman certainly, but is wearing only a dusty white silk shirt, black pants, and a simple silver chain necklace with an obsidian pendant. The outfit is undoubtedly more expensive than anything Vex owns, but his overly pompous vernacular doesn’t correspond to the relative simplicity of his garb. Considering he’s just been bodily thrown to the ground by a stranger, Vex decides he’s entitled to a little cheek.

               “Are you alright? You look hurt,” she asks. He looks up at her for the first time, piercing blue eyes squinting at her incredulously.

               “Two for two,” he answers with mock praise. Vex bristles. Her ears are still ringing and it’s difficult to think straight, but she’s damn sure her concern shouldn’t be answered with condescension. Her patience and lenience toward the man are wearing thin.

               “Well excuse me, _Sir,_ for asking!” she quips, crossing her arms angrily in front of her.

               “No, excuse you for slamming into me out of nowhere, after this bloody necklace knocked me from the sky,” he answers coolly, and turns his gaze away from Vex. He probes the ground around him searchingly. “Can you make yourself useful at least and help me find my glasses?”

               Vex has half a mind to say ‘no’ and go on her merry way. But before she can, a glint of gold catches her eye. She steps over and picks up the gleaming spectacles from the dust. They’re rather pretty. There are four round lenses of two sizes. The smaller lenses are perched on pivots above the main lenses and can be flipped down for additional magnification.

               “You’re not Vax…” Vex repeats quietly to herself, thinking as she fiddles with one of the smaller lenses. The candle hadn’t worked then? Or… the instructions had said to think of Vax and only Vax. Vex is certain she had done just that. She remembers thinking of his face blurred behind her tears, his voice as he called her name and then the sky with the shooting star… oh. Realization hits Vex belatedly and she gives a bit of a start. “Oh!” she says out loud and spins around.

               “Did you find them?” the man asks. Vex paces past him, walking across the center of the crater and searching the ground.

               “We’re in a crater!” Vex says, “I thought of the star at the last second! The candle brought me to the star!” she paces once, twice across the center of the crater, excitement mounting in her chest. Her head tingles uncomfortably at her quick movements. Sometimes her balance feels a bit thrown, like the air is catching at her legs, but her enthusiasm keeps her upright. There’s no fallen star in the crater. That can’t be. The hole is massive. There’s a huge gouge of scorched earth leading up to this area. Something big had to hit the ground to make this kind of mark, and it can’t have just walked away.

               The man is on his knees now, turning his head to watch her pace. He’s still squinting at her. Vex isn’t sure if it’s because he’s confused, irritated, or simply can’t see without his glasses. Possibly it’s a combination of the three. She’s too excited to care. She could bring a star back to Syngorn! She could return with a tale about her _crossing the Wall_ to search for a _fallen star!_ Just watch Victoria and Humphrey mock her for that! How much would a star sell for? Could it possibly be enough to elevate the standing of two bastard half-elves?

               “Sorry, sir,” Vex says, coming to a halt in front of the man, “have you seen a fallen star? We’re in a crater, it must’ve fallen here!” He blinks at her.

               “Yes. It did fall here,” he states frankly. “And up there,” he gestures to the starlit sky, “is where it was minding its own business before it got hit by this weird, bloody necklace,” he flicks a finger over his necklace, “and was knocked out of the sky. And over there,” he gestures again, more emphatically this time, “is where he got hit by a magical _flying moron.”_

               It’s Vex’s turn to blink. She follows the man’s gestures slowly and realization once again dawns on her.

               “Y-you? Oh--you’re the star?” she asks in sharp, halting words. The man--Star?--doesn’t move or change expression. There’s a distant look in his eyes as he takes a deep breath, like a parent trying desperately to deal calmly with a child that Just-Doesn’t-Get-It.

               “Did you happen upon my glasses?” he asks, but the politeness and calm of his tones is forced. Vex doesn’t answer immediately. She’s still trying to wrap her head around an anthropomorphized star. Any other day she would’ve refused the idea outright… but she had just recently been frozen in place by some magical Gilmore-force, and later transported a considerable distance via candlelight. This is the strangest thing she’s come across in the last twenty-four hours, but not by much.

               “Perspective, Vex’ahlia,” she whispers to herself, “perspective.” Upon receiving an inquisitive and somewhat impatient look from the Star, Vex clears her throat and holds up the spectacles. “Yes,” she says loudly, “here.”

               “ _Thank you,”_ he says, unable to keep the exasperated snap out of his voice. Vex openly rolls her eyes as he reaches for the glasses. He doesn’t take them. Vex frowns, watching his hand splay upward, almost like he’s waving at her. Does he expect her to hand them to him? Is he really that blind?

               “They’re here,” she says, and lifts the glasses up a little higher.

               “Yes, I see them!” he snaps, a little flustered, “I just can’t seem to get to them.” He slides his hand across the air, and Vex can see now that the skin of his palm is compressed. It looks like he’s being trapped by a pane of glass. Like an entertainer in an imaginary box, he slowly inspects the area around him. Vex watches with fascination as he moves, and notes that he can’t seem to step further than six or seven feet from the center of the crater.

               Vex curls her fingers gently around the spectacles and then kneels to inspect the line of the invisible wall. There’s no concerning marks, nothing there other than glassed-over dirt and ash. Vex experimentally wafts some of the dust over the invisible line. Nothing impedes it. Carefully, Vex takes one finger and sticks it over the boundary. She feels a faint resistance, but her finger passes through the boundary like the dust. There’s a strange tingling in her head the originates over her ear. She pulls her hand back and trails her fingertips over the spot. The soft fibers of the raven feather tucked behind her ear brush against her skin as she does. Well that’s… interesting. It wasn’t _just_ a raven feather then. _What have you given me, brother?_ She wonders.

               “Are you doing this?” the Star asks. His voice is accusatory, but uncertain, like he doesn’t believe Vex the magical flying moron is capable of erecting invisible magical barriers.

               “No,” Vex says. She stands. After a moment of hesitation she extends her entire hand forward and through the barrier. Again there’s the uncomfortable tickle in her mind, but nothing more. She uncurls her fingers and offers the Star his glasses. He looks down at them suspiciously, and slowly picks them up. As he does, his fingers brush over hers for a moment. Vex watches a shiver dance along his shoulders as he pulls away. He places the spectacles on his nose and rubs at his head just above his ear, mirroring Vex. She frowns a little.

               The two share a somewhat awkward silence as the Star looks her over clearly for the first time. Fortunately, Vex is too busy wondering how she can possibly get this Star back to Syngorn to notice his curious stare. She can’t _sell_ a human being like a hunk of sky-metal, that would be abominable. But if he accompanies her back across the Wall, he might be able to help her wipe those smug smirks off of Victoria and Humphrey’s faces.

               “For some reason, something is trapping me here. It appears I need your aid,” the Star says. He doesn’t seem particularly pleased with that conclusion, but there it is. Vex smiles at him pleasantly and slowly folds her arms.

               “It appears you do,” she says sweetly, dropping her weight onto one foot and tilting her head at him. A muscle clenches in the Star’s jaw, and he briefly glances away while, Vex suspects, trying to suppress the urge to roll his eyes.

               “If you run an errand to help me escape this prison, I’ll find some way to compensate you,” he says, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. Vex raises her brows.

               “I have something in mind, actually,” she says. The Star frowns uncertainly, and then looks distinctly uncomfortable, he shifts from foot to foot. “Nothing sinister,” Vex assures quickly.

               “What is it?” he asks suspiciously.

               “You come with me to Syngorn, and help me prove a point,” Vex says, vague on the details because she hasn’t exactly worked them out yet. “And I’ll get you out of this… whatever it is.” The Star looks at her skeptically. She can see his fingers twitching. He wants to ask for more details, Vex can tell.

               “I’ll need several different ingredients. Some powdered Displacer bone, some vials, distilling reagents, Merrow blood--” he says. Vex doesn’t know what any of that is. She waves a hand to cut him off.

               “Yeah, yeah,” she says and holds out her hand for him to shake. That strange feeling trickles through her head again as her hand crosses the magical barrier. “I’ll get you out of here, and you’ll accompany me to Syngorn. Deal?” The Star huffs and reluctantly takes her hand. She shakes it firmly, smiling.

               “Deal,” he says, and starts to pull away. Vex tightens her grip on his hand. He has half a second to look alarmed before Vex yanks him forward. He lets out an undignified yelp and staggers forward. There’s a split second of fear that jolts through Vex’s heart as she feels him pushed slightly back by the magic. She can feel the feather warm slightly along the side of her head and the tingling there briefly intensifies. But her intuition is rewarded, and he breaks through the barrier, stumbling over the threshold and into Vex.

               The Star yanks his hand away and steps away from Vex quickly. He opens his mouth to protest, dusting himself off indignantly, but then looks over his shoulder and snaps his mouth shut. He clears his throat.

               “How did you do that?” he asks, voice a little squeaky as he looks back at Vex. He actually seems surprised and mildly impressed. Vex grins and offers him a wink.

               “I’m full of surprises, darling,” she says, and offers her hand one more time. “I’m Lady Vex’ahlia.” She doesn’t mean to preface her name with ‘Lady’, but the word slips from her lips before she can stop it. He raises a brow and glances at her hand. “I won’t pull you again. Promise,” she says, grinning. The faintest hint of a smile curls at the Star’s lips and he takes her hand again.

               “Lady Vex’ahlia?” he repeats. Vex nods, and thinks that this is one of the only times someone with a ‘noble accent’ has ever said those words with anything other than mild disdain. It’s possible he isn’t completely insufferable like almost every other highborn ponce she knows.

               “My name is Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski De Rolo, the Third Star of the Constellation Whitestone,” he says smoothly. Vex raises her brows, suddenly rethinking her previous assessment. “As per our agreement, I will accompany you to Syngorn and for all I’m worth, I will help you… _prove a point?”_ His tone of voice suggests that Percival is looking for some sort of elaboration about the point that needs proving. Vex doesn’t have one for him. Instead of an explanation she offers him a pleasant smile.

               “Thank you,” she says, opting to treat his question like a statement. Vex hoists her backpack up a little higher. She turns and leaves before he can prod her for more information. It takes a moment, but Vex hears a little sigh and then the telltale sound of the Star limping after her. She’s grateful that he seems to be a little sore, because she’s not feeling in peak condition either. She has to figure out how to make the most of this deal--or really how to make _anything_ out of it. The longer it takes them both to reach Syngorn, the longer she’ll have to work it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you really at all surprised that Percival is our Star? I'm really very predictable.


	7. Contained Forms and Uncontained Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As usual, Vex has questions. She uses them to pass the time, idly speaking and getting to know a little more about fallen Star, Percival.

               Vex walks in absolute silence. She pauses occasionally to check the sky, peering through the holes in the loose canopy to gauge which direction they need to go. Luckily it’s a clear night, and the stars gleaming in the sky are the same ones she so often contemplates from the rooftops of Syngorn. Vex remembers the Star streaking across the Wall, away from Syngorn and into the east. She figures as long as they keep traveling west, eventually they’ll hit the Wall and can follow along it until they find the breach where Gilmore stands guard. Then it’s just a hop, skip, and heel-click to Syngorn. Vex thinks that there is some irony in using the stars to guide them, and if she were feeling more chatty she might make a quip about it to Percival. But she’s not feeling chatty. And she doesn’t know Percival that well at all.

               Vex guiltily runs her hand over the pocket where the candle stub is tucked, and thinks of Vax. She could use it to get to him, but she’s rationalized away that possibility. Firstly she doesn’t know if the candle can take both herself _and_ Percival along for the journey. Secondly, it doesn’t feel quite right to use the second half of the candle. If there were two uses to the thing, one ought to belong to Vax. So Vex has resigned herself to abandoning her quest to find her brother. It leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. She keeps asking if she _really_ wants to save the candle for Vax, or if she is just trying to find reasons to continue her quest to bring the Star back to Syngorn. Is it selfish to want to elevate her status so badly? It’s not just for her, after all! She’ll use Percival’s help to better her brother’s standing as well! Wouldn’t that be a nice surprise to return home to? But then… Vax never seemed to care much what other people thought of him. So how much is Vex doing this for _Vax_ , and how much is for _herself?_ Vex purposefully turns her thoughts away from that question. The heavy, guilty weight in her heart is the answer, but she can’t bring herself to confront it.

               “Lady Vex’ahlia?” Percival calls from behind her. Vex winces at ‘Lady’, the lie sharp against her ears. It also throws a wrench in things. She’s going to have to explain that she is not, in fact, titled, and that she wants him to help take some pompous noble-folk down a notch or two. Vex thinks of Percival’s highborn tones, and noble name, and wonders how he’ll feel about that task. He’s spent his entire life in the sky looking down at people, after all. How different is he from Victoria and Humphrey really? She doesn’t know a damn thing about him… but she has a feeling. It is the faintest inclination of trust, inspired by the glimmer of surprise and delight in Percival’s eyes after she’d pulled him from his prison.

               “Yes?” Vex asks, glancing over her shoulder. Percival is trudging along behind her. There are dark circles under his eyes, and he looks a little paler than before. A fine sheen of sweat shines on his brow. Vex stops immediately and turns toward him with concern. “Are you alright?”

               “I am well enough,” Percival answers with polite stubbornness. Vex recognizes the lie immediately. It’s the same one she used with Syldor not a day before. Contrary to his words, he stops and draws in a deep breath. “I was wondering about our deal. I’d rather like to hear some more details about the task at hand.”

               “You’re not alright,” Vex says, half dodging his question for herself, and half out of concern for him. She steps forward as he sways and reaches out to steady him. Percival raises a hand as if to swat her away, but winds up grabbing her for support.

               “Our deal--” he insists.

               “--can wait,” Vex finishes forcefully, “now sit.” She guides Percival to a nearby cluster of tree roots. He resists only for an instant, and then gratefully collapses onto one of the roots.

               “Really it’s nothing, just a bit winded,” he says, out of breath. He realizes he is still holding on to Vex’s arm and lets go abruptly. Instead his hand drifts slowly to the pendant around his neck. His fingers curl absently around the dark, round jewel. There’s a stretch of silence in which Vex forgets her guilt and imminent difficulties, and is struck instead with intense curiosity. That slight inclination of trust from before gives her enough confidence to speak up.

               “You know, I’ve never talked to a Star before,” she says, and sits down in front of Percival. He raises a brow at her, expression guarded, but there’s a glimmer in his eye that he can’t quite dim.

               “Not many people have. We tend to exist up there, you see,” he says, flicking a finger skyward without breaking eye contact. The statement is not made with malice, but bland humor. Vex briefly rolls her eyes.

               “Obviously. But what I meant is, I didn’t expect you to be so…” Vex gestures to him, “...not-shiny?” she finishes, at a loss for how to describe it. ‘Human’ doesn’t seem like an applicable word in this situation. A smirk curls at the corner of Percival’s lip.

               “We have a different form on the Astral Plane, yes,” he says, resting his elbows on his knees and lacing his fingers. Vex hasn’t the faintest idea of what an ‘Astral Plane’ is, but she guesses it’s some long-winded way of saying ‘sky’.

               “Huh. You strike me as the flashy sort, why not glow a little?” Vex asks, leaning back on her palms and grinning. Surely someone with a name like Percival Fredrickson Von-whatever De-blah-blah, third Star of Whitestone would be the sort of person--Star--to put a bit of ostentation in his wardrobe? She almost says that part out loud, but bites her tongue before it escapes. Best not damage any goodwill he has toward her.

               “It’s not so simple, although if I really wanted a little flash I suppose I could destabilize my material form and emit some energy. That being said, it would put me at risk of burning out, and controlling that energy output would be damn tricky. I’m not sure it’s worth risking incinerating everyone in the room for--how did you put it?--a little glow.” Percival leans back against the tree trunk, hands still folded gently in his lap.

               “Depends on how much you like the people in the room, I imagine,” Vex answers with a dry chuckle, trying not to look too alarmed by the suggestion that Percival apparently has the power to incinerate people. Vex suddenly has an idea why Gilmore was never keen on letting normal folks cross the Wall. Percival blinks, clearly not expecting her answer, and apparently oblivious to her smothered apprehension. A slow smile dawns on his features.

               “Yes I suppose,” he says after a moment. Vex leans forward, curiosity not yet sated.

               “So… material form? Up on the Astral Plane you’re a big glowy energy ball, and down here you’re you. Do you pick what you look like?”

               “I do have some control over aspects of my appearance, but the materialization of this form is… natural, organic. More something you feel your way through, rather than plan your way through.”

               “Do any different places turn you into different things?” she asks, the grin still on her face. “I don’t suppose you’d turn into a toad if we accidentally hopped to another plane?” Percival frowns.

               “It’s a possibility. I don’t know much about existing in different planes. This form is convenient and conserves energy, additionally it is excellent camouflage. I suppose a… toad might be an effective shape to take depending on the plane. However… distasteful an idea that is.” Vex wants to laugh at the hesitant disgust that shows in his furrowed brows. She also has half a mind to point out that he actually seems to know quite a bit about existing in different planes. But she restrains herself on both counts. Percival shakes his head, gathers his thoughts, and adds, “Anyway, it’s not so easy to jump planes. You’d need a quantum field generator and particle transporter for that.”

               “Uh-huh,” Vex says in monotone, eyebrows raised and silently asking if she is supposed to have understood any of that. Percival doesn’t put much effort into hiding the tiny smirk on his lips.

               “A Gate Candle, in layman’s terms,” he amends, only half apologetic.

               “Uh-huh,” Vex repeats, equally unimpressed. _Showoff_ , she thinks. Percival, surprisingly, has enough humility to look chastised by her response. He shrugs his shoulders and glances away. Vex might’ve noticed the touch of pink in his normally-pale cheeks if she hadn’t been so busy thinking of a certain traveling-candle in her pocket. She runs a hand over it surreptitiously.

               When Vex returns to her senses, she finds Percival staring up at the slowly lightening sky. His expression is distant and troubled, and inspires a pang of sympathy in her heart.

               “So… knocked from the sky huh?” she asks quietly. Percival becomes very still, not even breathing. Vex wonders briefly if Stars have to breathe. Percival’s hand goes to the pendant around his neck. “How’d a necklace do that?” she asks.

               “I don’t know,” Percival says quietly. Vex can’t decide if he’s lying, or if he actually doesn’t know and is terrified of that.

               "Is there a way for you to get back?” Vex presses hesitantly. Percival, somehow, becomes even more still.

               “Yes,” Percival says, but his tone suggests he’s not particularly hopeful about any of his options, or keen on discussing them at the moment. Vex presses her lips together, unwilling to pursue the subject further, but not sure how to step away from the dark line of questioning she’d begun. At that moment, Percival’s stomach growls loudly. He starts, and looks down as though surprised by the noise. Stars apparently get hungry. Vex hums a soft laugh, grateful for the impeccably timed break in tension. She shrugs off her pack and pulls some of her rations out.

               “Have something to eat. We can rest here for a while. We’ve had a big day. You falling from the sky, me falling on you, escaping from some magical binding force in a crater,” she says, waving her hand as if the whole thing is a simple inconvenience and not a series of incredibly unlikely and unbelievable events. Percival considers the food in her outstretched hand, and cracks a very small smile. He nods and takes the food.

               The two share a meal in silence. Percival slumps down onto the ground and crosses his arms  tightly over his chest as he leans back against the tree. Vex takes one look at how he’s pulled his sleeves up so that he can tuck the ends of them in his fists for extra warmth, and undoes the strappings that tie her blanket to her pack. She tosses it at him without a word. He doesn’t reach for it when it lands in his lap, only looks up at her, uncertain. Vex shrugs.

               “I’m fine,” and she tugs at the fur-lined collar of her vest. It’s enough to guard against the slight nip in the air. His shirt looks expensive and flowy and elegant, but not particularly warm. Vex settles down herself, using her backpack as a pillow. She faces away from Percival when she lays down, and doesn’t look back at him. After another beat of silence, she hears him shift, and then pull the blanket over himself.

               “Thank you,” he says quietly. Vex smiles to herself, hums a simple acknowledgement to him, and closes her eyes. She has a single heartbeat to realize exactly how exhausted and desperate for sleep she is before unconsciousness sweeps over her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty short chapter! (Although all of them are fairly short...) But have some idle chatter and questions about Stars!


	8. So... About That Deal?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vex and Percy continue to have absolutely civil discussions, there is no yelling, and of course as usual nothing goes wrong.

               Vex comes to consciousness with a dull headache. The sunlight that filters through the trees assaults her eyes without mercy. Vex shields them with a hand and slowly pushes herself upright. Her body aches as she stretches, and every muscle protests when she gets to her feet. Vex takes a breath and pushes the discomfort from her mind.

               It’s about midday. The sun is just beginning to arc past its zenith. Vex glances around, checking her surroundings. The forest is relatively quiet except for the gentle rustle of leaves and the telltale scampering of birds and squirrels. Vex allows herself a moment to close her eyes and inhale deeply. It’s been a very long time since she felt so peaceful. There’s not a single wall in sight, not a breath of stale city-air to be had. And even though there’s not another soul around for miles, Vex feels less alone here than she does in Syngorn.

               Except she’s not alone. Vex opens her eyes and looks down at the Star. Percival Fredrickstein… Von… something de Rolo? Vex struggles to remember the entire name. She’ll have to ask him for it again later. There’s a lot of things for them to talk about actually. He’s going to ask her about their deal again, Vex is sure of it. She doesn’t know how much longer she can stall. For now, Percival is sleeping somewhat restlessly. He has Vex’s blanket pulled tightly around him and is nestled between the thick tree roots.

               Vex picks up her backpack and carries it over to the base of the tree where she takes a seat. Might as well give Percival a little longer to rest. After all, he can’t ask questions Vex doesn’t know how to answer if he’s asleep. So… what to do about this whole Star business? Percival can do nothing to elevate her monetary status, and she’s not sure he could help her social status either. She could spin her tale about crossing the wall in search of a Star, and Percival could vouch for her. But would anyone in Syngorn believe a story like that, even with Percival backing it up? Probably not. If anything, bringing Percival back to Syngorn after having disappeared would be… well it would start gossip if nothing else.

               Vex sighs and puts her face in her hands. She peeks between her fingers at Percival’s sleeping form. His silver-white hair is sticking up in odd places, and his beautiful gold spectacles are slightly askew. He looks very young, Vex realizes. She wonders how long Stars live as her eyes trace the line of his jaw. Vex notices the round curve of his ears, and it’s this little detail that finally makes her realize that there’s no way for this situation to turn out in her favor. The elves of Syngorn won’t see a Star when they look at Percival. They’ll see a human with white hair. He’ll be just as looked down upon as a bastard half-blood. There’s no way he can make anyone back home think any more of her.

               Vex bites her lip, face hidden behind her hands, and tries to smother the sudden urge to cry. This isn’t the time to break down. Not here when Percival could wake up at any moment. Not across the Wall in a strange place full of potentially dangerous things. _Keep it together,_ Vex tells herself.

               With a faint sniffle, Vex drops her hands and takes a deep breath. She’ll have to tell Percival he can go. He’ll at least be thankful he doesn’t have to follow her on some foolish errand. He probably has other important things to do, like figure out how to get home himself. Vex absently traces the outline of the candle stub in her pocket. What had Percival called it? A Gate Candle? If she was guessing correctly, this candle might actually be able to get him back to the sky--Astral Plane...whatever. Vex hesitates, still possessive of the candle. It isn’t hers to give away. It belongs to Vax, her _twin brother._ She can’t just give it away to a complete stranger.

               Percival shifts in his sleep and turns. The blanket slips so that Vex can see his arms are still tightly folded across his chest. He has a fist wrapped around the black stone pendant. His fingers are clenched so tightly that his knuckles are bloodless. Without thinking, Vex leans forward and pulls the blanket back over his shoulders. When she pulls back her thoughts linger on his pendant. He’d mentioned that it was the reason he was here. It had knocked him from the sky? Or something like that? Vex has to admit that everything he said feels a bit blurred in her mind. Either it’s because she was struggling to comprehend the situation as it happened, or because two days ago she’d suffered a head injury. Maybe both.

               Still, Percival definitely made it sound like it wasn’t easy to travel between planes. And he hadn’t traveled here of his own free will so who had pulled him from the sky? And why? Gilmore’s voice echoes distantly in her mind, warning her about dangers she wouldn’t be able to defend herself from. Vex wraps her arms around herself and frowns. Percival stirs again, this time his eyelids flutter and then open. He looks up at her, squinting behind his skewed spectacles. Vex clears her throat.

               “Good morning,” she says with a bit of a forced smile. Percival scrunches his eyes closed again and pinches the bridge of his nose with a grunt. “Not much of a morning person I take it?” Vex asks with a half-grin, dark thoughts momentarily forgotten as she watches Percival scowl like a petulant child.

               “I’m a _Star,_ ” Percival reminds her, “So no. I’m never a morning person.” Oh. That’s right. Vex lets out a short laugh.

               “You’ve been asleep at least eight hours. Come on, get up. We should get moving, and there are things to talk about,” Vex says. Her throat closes up a little as she says it. Percival scowls again and sits upright.

               “Moving I can do,” he mutters, “talking can wait.” Vex opens her mouth to say something, thinks better of it, and then closes it with a shrug. She snatches away her blanket with a quick swipe of her hand. Percival gives a startled flinch, and squints at her accusingly, still half-asleep. Vex suppresses a smile and rolls ups the blanket before lashing it to her pack. She stands and waits for Percival to rise as well. She takes a second to get her bearings, and then continues to lead the way on their trek toward the Wall.

 

* * *

 

               Vex has to try hard not to frequently glance over her shoulder to check on Percival. Every second spent in silence is a second spent in anxious trepidation, and they spend a _lot_ of seconds in silence. She’s sure that he’s going to bring up the topic of their deal at any time. Vex is simultaneously hoping for it to happen, and dreading the moment it does. Percival, infuriatingly, remains silent and brooding. Whenever Vex glances over her shoulder she notices that his expression has slowly turned more and more sour. He stumbles sometimes because his eyes are fixed on a distant middle ground, instead of the tangle of roots and uneven forest floor at his feet. His hand, again, is wrapped around the obsidian pendant.

               The trees are slowly starting to thin, and Vex can’t help but feel a little disappointed that they’re coming out of the forest. With the foliage overhead thinning Vex has a better view of the sky. Though she’s using the sun to guide their path, Vex can’t help but notice another beacon of light in the sky. There’s still a star hanging in the sky, despite the hour.

               “Is that you?” Vex asks as she glances back at Percival and points upward. Percival almost trips again, but comes out of his trance. He follows her finger skyward.

               “Yes. Or at least the echo of me,” he says, none too happily.

               “Echo?” Vex presses, trying to start conversation that could lead into her intended topic. Percival just sighs heavily. For a few quiet beats Vex thinks he’s not going to say anything.

               “I’m not exactly sure the reason behind it,” he admits. Vex raises her brows, slowing her step so that they’re walking side by side instead of single file.

               “But you have a theory?” she presses, thumbs tucked under the straps of her backpack. She has to admit, even though she wants to talk about their deal, she’s actually curious.

               “Not one I have been able to prove,” Percival says blandly.

               “And that bothers you,” Vex observes with a sympathetic smile.

               “Yes,” Percival answers, looking straight ahead and speaking without much emotion. At least he can admit it. Most pompous pricks wouldn’t admit to ignorance or irritation even if their life was on the line. If Vex was lucky, noble stars had better temperament than noble elves.

               “I’ve got one,” Vex says.

               “Oh?” Percival gives her a sidelong glance, one brow raised.

               “You’re awake here, so you’re awake up there. So technically, if you’re awake in the morning... That _would_ make you a morning star, wouldn’t it?” Vex asks, unable to contain her grin. Any interest that Percival may have held in her theory quickly fades. His sideways look turns away from her just before Vex can discern whether his lips are pressed together to hide a smile or a frown. Percival picks up his pace with a bit of an irritated sigh. Vex laughs and takes a jogging step forward.

               “No wait! Wait sorry!” she says, but her smile suggests she’s not sorry at all. Percival draws that conclusion and still won’t meet her eye. “Alright, alright,” she says, dropping the joke.

               The pair walk side by side in silence for a while longer, and Vex’s heart droops a little bit as she realizes she’s going to have to restart the conversation. Better sooner than later, they’re breaking free of the forest now. It’s as good a time as any for them to part ways.

               “You know, I look up at the stars a lot,” Vex says, and inwardly curses herself for being unable to cut to the chase.

               “We look at your world as well,” Percival answers, matter of fact. Vex misses a beat in her stride at that.

               “Oh,” she says, not entirely sure how to respond. Percival doesn’t seem like he’s going to elaborate, so she continues. “What I was meaning to say was, I’ve never heard of the constellation Whitestone.” There’s another short pause and Vex thinks she’ll have to continue talking again.

               “No, I don’t imagine you have,” Percival says finally. His voice is as tight and stiff as his posture.

               “Are constellations like families of Stars?” Vex asks wearily, aware that she’s treading on treacherous ground, but not sure why.

               “Yes.”

               “Maybe you could point them out to me later? Tell me their name--”

               “What about your family?” Percival cuts in, and Vex knows immediately she shouldn’t have continued her line of questioning.  Percival stops walking and rounds on Vex with his arms folded across his chest. She stops walking as well, and allows the abrupt change in subject.

               “I have a twin brother, Vax’ildan,” Vex answers calmly.

               “Just one brother?” Percival asks, his voice unusually accusatory.

               “Yes? Should there be more?” Vex asks slowly, head tilted to the side. A nervous, uncertain smile tugs at her lips.

               “Lord Vax’ildan, and Lady Vex’ahlia?” Percival says, and there’s a venom to his voice when he says ‘Lord’ and ‘Lady’. Vex’s smile vanishes. It’s the sort of venom that seeps from the teeth of people like Victoria and Humphrey when they bare their fangs in a false smile. Vex lifts her chin. She knows this is her chance to speak up and correct her lie. She hesitates too long. “I only ask because _noble_ families usually have several children. Better chance of carrying on the line, you see. Marrying into money, continuing the family business, ensuring the legacy of the family name. That sort of thing.”

               “Before when I said--”

               “I know,” Percival cuts in sharply. “I know you’re not nobility.” Vex isn’t sure what she said to incite Percival’s anger. The hollow of her chest is filled with a mixture of indignation and absolute terror.

               “Is it that obvious then, _Lord de Rolo_?” Vex asks, unable to keep the tremor from her voice. She balls her hands into fists at her side to keep them from brushing at her shirt or tugging at her braid. Percival scoffs and waves a hand at her. Vex grits her teeth.

               “The way you dress, the way you speak, your mannerisms, how you _walk_ ,” he rattles off the list with ease, an incredulous  bark of laughter accompanies his words. Like he can’t believe she ever thought she could pass for nobility. “None of it suggests you are someone of noble blood.” Each of his words feels like an arrow to her heart. Vex diligently takes each blow, determined not to let any tears fall. Percival’s words hurt, but in a different way than Vex is used to. Victoria and Humphrey always attacked sideways with jagged words coated with honey and poison. Percival is direct, to the point, and it hurts but  the wound is clean and manageable. Vex squares her shoulders, refusing to back down.

               “And what good did your noble blood do in that crater back there?” Vex demands, gesturing angrily behind her. “Your fancy title and your long name, and your legacy didn’t do shit to get you out of that trap! You were useless!” Vex sees Percival flinch at that, and she feels a tug of cruel satisfaction. “You had to make a deal with a lowly _commoner_ to get out of trouble!”

               “Speaking of our deal,” Percival counters sharply, and Vex feels the blood drain from her face. This isn’t at all how she imagined coming to this topic, but here it is. “This _point_ you want me to help you prove? It’s to some nobleman that wronged you isn’t it? You want to take them down a peg or two, and convince them you’re on the same footing, don’t you?” Vex stands her ground, nails digging into her palms, eyes dry.

               “Yes,” she admits, voice hard.

               “And how exactly am I going to do that? Did you even _think_ at all about how that would work? How could I, a complete stranger, convince anyone that you’re any more than you really are?” Percival demands. Vex raises her chin ever higher.

               “I did. And you can’t,” she says, voice breaking halfway through. Percival blinks at her, not expecting that reply. “Goodbye, Lord de Rolo. You’re free to go,” Vex says, and she walks beyond him. Percival doesn’t say anything. Vex can feel his stare on her back. She listens and doesn’t hear Percival’s footsteps following her. Vex walks and, surprisingly, she doesn’t cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Naturally things can't go right for too long. Don't be too harsh on Percy, he's not having a great time right now. And the last time he was on the Material Plane it wasn't a pleasant trip.


	9. Long Walks and Strange Bedfellows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After parting ways, both Percy and Vex make strange new acquaintances.

               Percival is an ass. Unfortunately he doesn’t realize it immediately. His blood is still boiling when Vex’ahlia walks past him. He looks up at the echo of the last lonely star in the constellation Whitestone. In his mind's eye he can still see where the others should be. Frederick, Johanna, Julius, Vesper, Oliver, Whitney, Ludwig, and Cassandra. Eight other stars whose lights have been snuffed out. Eight other stars he had failed to aid. Even Cassandra, the youngest and least powerful of them all had managed to do _something._ But Percival? Percival had been useless. Percival had watched his youngest sister burn out and then fled for his life.

               How dare that woman pretend to be one of them? _Lady Vex’ahlia._ She hadn’t even provided a surname! It’s almost like she had been intentionally making a mockery of the noble customs Percival’s family had instilled in him. It’s the only thing he has left of them beyond faded memories. And then Vex had, had the nerve to ask about Whitestone? To inquire after their names like it was some idle trifle? Like they were alive and well and he might point them out in the night sky and say ‘That’s where my family is’. Percival lets out a long breath, blinking away tears he hadn’t realized were in his eyes.  He quickly swipes away the dampness on his cheeks. As his vision clears he can see Vex’ahlia, just a small shape in the distance now. And that’s when Percival realizes he’s an ass.

               What had she done _really?_ Other than ask an honest question about his family? Was her curiosity so terrible? Was her desire to be treated with respect something he could hold against her? No. Percival drags both of his hands down his face. He has half a mind to go after her, but he remembers her hard, composed face and the sharp edge of her words. He had lashed out with venom and she'd barely even flinched. She doesn’t want him coming after her. What would it matter anyway? He’d apologize and then they’d part ways again. He can’t do anything to help her with her problem in any meaningful way. Besides, Syngorn is in the opposite direction he needs to go. He needs to get back to the Astral Plane as soon as possible. No doubt there are already people here searching for him, hungry for the power of a Star. The thought makes Percival shiver. He forces away memories of the last time he was trapped on this plane and focuses on what needs to be done. He needs to have a very long distance conversation. That task will require some items, which means what Percival really needs is a marketplace. So with a final glance to Vex’ahlia’s retreating form and a stab of guilt and regret, Percival turns east and starts walking.

 

* * *

 

               Vex doesn’t look over her shoulder and she doesn’t stop walking until she’s sure Percival is well out of sight. When finally she does spare a glance to the east, a hollow pang of distant anger and regret hits her heart. With a shaking breath, Vex drops to the ground. Her head hurts. Her feet hurt. Her chest aches. She feels like she ought to be crying, or more upset about this than she actually is. Instead she just feels emotionally numb.

               Vex wistfully looks over her shoulder again to the east.

               “Vax, I could really use you right now,” she murmurs to the gentle breeze. The faint wind blows her tangled hair into her face, and her anxious fingers twist at her fraying braid. A hollow laugh escapes her lips as she runs her hands along her hair. It’s a mess. Of course Percival had known she wasn’t nobility, with her hair like this.

               Vex shrugs off her backpack and lets it fall back into the grass. Numbly she plucks the raven feather from behind her ear and tucks it into her pocket next to the two letters.

               “Your hair’s a mess, Stubby,” Vex mutters under her breath, because it’s what Vax would say. She undoes the tie on her braid and slowly combs through it with her fingers until all the tangles are gone. The breeze tosses her free locks and threatens to tangle them again. Vex thinks of Victoria with her long, loose hair spilling in carefree waves over her shoulders. She thinks of Saundor saying she ought to try wearing her own hair down sometime. Vex’s fingers twist around each other without the tail of a braid to worry over.

               After a few long moments, Vex gathers up her hair again and arranges it back into a braid. She imagines how she must have looked to Percival. Some wild-haired young woman with a feather in her hair, flying toward him from out of nowhere. Certainly not nobility. Vex lets out a hoarse chuckle and presses a hand to her head. Of course he had known. It’s all she can think over and over again. Of course he had known. Of course. How could she have been so foolish?

               Vex retrieves the raven feather from her pocket and runs it between her fingers before placing it securely behind her ear. Briefly she thinks, _Victoria wouldn’t be caught dead with a feather in her hair_. For some reason that thought brings a faint smile to Vex’s lips, though the expression fades before she has a chance to ponder its existence.

               Vex sits staring off into the distance for some time, mind blank. It takes a while, but she finally blinks and her attention snaps back into focus. She slips her arms absently into the looped straps of her pack and stands. She wobbles a little bit before finding firm footing. After a few cautious steps, the strength slowly returns to her stride. With the wind encouraging her from behind, Vex continues her journey westward toward the Wall.

 

* * *

 

 

              Percival picks up a path that winds alongside the edge of the treeline. He doesn’t travel _on_ it. He’s far too suspicious and worried about running into… well anyone at this point. Instead he keeps an eye on it while ducking between the trees. It would be easier to travel on the path. Certainly his aching body would appreciate the hard-packed earth of a well-traveled road. But that same aching body was also not quick to move _off_ that path in case anyone approached. Far better to move slowly and unseen, than quickly and risk being spotted.

               Periodically, Percival checks over his shoulder. There’s never anything there, and every time he looks and sees that emptiness he feels a little pang of regret. He ought not have left Vex’ahlia like he did. In fact, each time he checks over his shoulder, he becomes more certain he should have gone after her once his anger had subsided. There’s nothing for it now, of course. She’s long gone, and unlikely to cross paths with him again. 

               A root snares Percival’s foot and nearly drags him to the ground. He staggers forward for a few steps and has to pinwheel his arms to remain upright. He teeters precariously after coming to a stop, and then lurches back to sure footing. He glares accusingly over his shoulder at the culprit, a particularly gnarled and raised root. It is unswayed by his dignified disapproval, and remains a crude semi-raised arch, ready to trip travelers who aren’t paying attention to where they walk.

               “Is this how you’re going to be, Percival?” he asks himself with a sigh. “There’s no innocent women around anymore so you have to turn your unsolicited ire onto plants? What a sorry state you’re in.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. Perhaps, once he finds his way back to the Astral Plane, he could look in on La… on Vex’ahlia. Just to be sure she at least made it back to Syngorn safely. His conscience would have to be satisfied with that small amount of comfort. Percival knows it won’t be. It’s just going to be one more regret he has to live with. He is at least no stranger to that.

               Percival lets out an exasperated noise, almost a snarl, and tilts his head back as he does. In the darkening evening sky he can see other Stars slowly waking up. He recognises a few of them, and feels a bitter wave of homesickness sweep over him. He hasn’t spoken with another Star in years, not since… well. Not since _it_ happened. The quiet and solitude had suited him just fine in the Astral Plane, but stranded here now, the desire to share even a quick word with a fellow Star is almost overwhelming.

               The backdrop of the far-distant realm of the Alabaster Sierra’s peppers the dark sky with a faint band of luminosity. Percival traces his eyes along the lines that once connected each star of Whitestone until his gaze lands again on the faded echo of his presence. Just beyond it, he can see a small patch of darkness. A cold and unforgiving hand wraps around his heart. For a moment, Percival is lost in that darkness--void of any warmth and mercy, an all-consuming maw of obsidian. The heat drains from Percival’s form, and he starts to shake. How long will it take before the echo of his presence is consumed, and that darkness comes seeking the light it’s been promised? Will it even listen if Percival can manage to scrounge up the materials required to contact it? Or will it grow weary of words and come to the Material Plane to hunt Percival down along with the dozen other creatures here vying for the power of his blood?

               With trembling hands, Percival reaches up and removes his glasses.  He focuses on the blurred shape of the gold rims, and forces his gaze to follow them as he cleans the lenses off on his shirt. He can still feel the presence of that darkness looming overhead, but not looking at it helps. There’s still time. He’s still cunning. Percival is a dealmaker, if nothing else. He can still make this work.

               Percival lifts his glasses to his face again, but as soon as he does a droplet of rain streaks across the left lens. He spares a risky glance toward the sky, where the sparse cloud cover is slowly starting to knit together over the sky and form ominous rain clouds. Of course. On top of everything else that’s happening, of course it’s going to rain.

               The wind slowly starts to pick up, each gust a harbinger of the coming storm. It slices through his thin, flowing shirt like the fine edge of a knife. Fortunately, Percival thinks grimly, he has no warmth left to steal away. The branches clatter overhead, and a flurry of early fall leaves bustle around Percival’s feet. A larger, more controlled flutter catches his eye. He looks over and meets gazes with a crow. The beast is perched on a low branch, its feathers ruffed up against the wind. Percival slowly tilts his  head to the side and watches the crow mirror him curiously. It lets out a single harsh caw.

               “I suppose you’re an additional ill omen here to add on to everything else?” Percival asks blandly. He reaches up to swipe away the droplet from his glasses and when his hand drops again the crow is gone. Not only is the crow gone, there’s now a young woman perched in its place. Percival lets out a very undignified yelp and takes an instinctive two steps backwards. Once again, that gnarled root snares his foot. This time his legs are weak, and he is shaking with fear and cold and surprise, and the root succeeds in dragging him to the ground.

               “Oh I’m sorry!” the young woman says.

               “Good Gods!” Percival exclaims, kicking himself free of the root and failing at trying to hurriedly shove himself to his feet. Women spontaneously appearing out of thin air was occurring with alarming frequency lately. Percival isn’t entirely sure how he feels about that fact.

               “I didn’t mean to startle you, oh…” her face appears in Percival’s line of view, the picture of apologetic sympathy. Despite the somewhat timid and flustered tone of her voice, her features are fierce and proud. She wears strong angles along her jaw and cheekbones. Bright green eyes look him over with concern, and a mane of copper-orange hair wreaths her face like the sky around a sunrise.

               “Didn’t mean to start-- _you were a crow, and then you were a woman!”_ Percival protests, swatting away her proffered helping hand and finally managing to get to his feet.

               “I mean, technically I’m always a woman and I just borrow the crow’s form temporarily,” she reasons distractedly, seeming not at all put off at having her hand swatted. She props it on a hip instead, the other wrapped around a tall staff.

               “Regardless!” Percival declares, dusting himself off. He catches his breath and composes himself, and finally has a second to take a good look at the woman in front of him. Young with pointed ears that poke out of her hair, proud but wild with a staff clutched in one hand and unique leather armor embossed with leaves and curling vines. Realization hits him like a slap in the face, and he’s never been so grateful for a slap in his life. “You’re a Druid!” Percival says, unable to keep the relief from his voice even if he tried. Druids have no interest in claiming the power of Stars, only in the preservation and balance of the Planes and the peaceful coexistence of their denizens.

               “I’m Keyleth!” the young woman chirps brightly, and almost as an afterthought she sticks out her hand again, this time to shake. Percival takes it, and a flicker of concern crosses Keyleth’s face when she feels how hard he is trembling.

               “Keyleth,” he repeats, and makes an effort to still his shivering hands. “My name is Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski De Rolo.” This time he manages to keep himself from adding ‘the Third Star of the constellation Whitestone’. It had rolled off his tongue so easily when he’d introduced himself to Vex’ahlia, but it was dangerous to proclaim yourself a Star on the Material Plane.

               “You’re a Star,” Keyleth says, a knowing glimmer in her eyes. Percival blinks owlishly at her. Oh. Well alright then. Keyleth lets go of his hand and touches her nose, “Ashari senses,” she explains. Percival gives a jerky nod, still mildly unnerved. He wonders if any other hunter might have similar ‘senses’ that would identify Percival so easily.

               “I need your help,” he says, a desperate quiver in his voice. She is one of the few people on this plane he could possibly trust to help him without malicious intent. He can still feel that omnipresent darkness looming over his head, though the clouds have long since veiled it from view. Keyleth reaches forward and places her hand on his shoulder.

               “You have it,” she says kindly. Percival feels a bit of warmth seep back into his soul. For the first time since arriving on the Material Plane, Percival relaxes. With an Ashari aiding him, he might actually make it back to the Astral Plane in one piece.

               “I have a plan,” he says. “I have… I need to send a Message to someone in the Astral Plane. They can help me return.”  Keyleth grips her staff with both hands and taps it approvingly against the ground.

               “Good!” she says brightly. “You’ll need the proper ingredients for a Message. If your friend can help you home, the sooner the better, but worst case scenario, we can travel to the Fire Ashari. There’s a candlemaker there that owes the Pyrah a favor. We may be able to secure you a Gate Candle, though that it would take some time. But, the Message is a good Plan A. The closest marketplace will be in Stillben.”

               “That was my thinking as well,” Percival says briskly. The Ashari has a bit of a rambling way of speaking. Her ideas and reasoning are all sound, but it seems she is speaking more to herself than anyone else, and she rarely meets Percival’s eye. Perhaps it is because she’s accustomed to keeping her own company.

               There’s a soft rush that creeps up behind the pair. Percival recognizes it as the sound of rain a moment before the droplets hit his shoulders. He flinches and Keyleth laughs. She turns her face toward the sky, seemingly reveling in the gentle rain.

               “Come on,” she says, and gestures toward the road, “I don’t frequent inns, but I think I saw one earlier on my flight. If we follow the path, we should run into it before too long.” Percy plucks at his shirt. It’s already sodden and the thin, damp fabric is clinging to his skin. He shivers as a brisk wind cuts him to the bone and pelts him with more rain.

               “That would be… agreeable,” he says and follows Keyleth out of the woods and down the road.

 

* * *

 

               Vex can feel the subtle changes in the air, the telltale shift in atmosphere that denotes a coming storm. She mindlessly pulls her blanket off of her pack and drapes it over her shoulders like a cloak. It won’t do much once it gets wet, but until the rain actually hits it will help ward away the rising winds and growing chill. She walks with only the shift in weather to mark the passage of time. Idle thoughts do not cross her mind.

               It’s only when a dark line appears in the distance that Vex finally emerges from her numb stupor. At first it doesn’t register as anything of importance: just another line of shadow under the falling night and thickening cloud cover. But after a beat, it occurs to Vex that the line is, in fact, a wall. And not just any wall. It’s her wall. It’s _the_ Wall. She’s unwittingly stepped off of the path, and continued homeward without thought.

               Once Vex realizes that the Wall is perhaps only a few miles off, she then realizes that her feet have stopped carrying her forward. She looks down, as if an explanation for her inaction will be written in the dirt. There isn’t. She looks back up at the Wall. There are no answers there either. Vex can feel the slow buildup of emotion in the back of her mind. It’s been there, growing for hours as she walked, refusing to confront it, refusing to think. She no longer has that luxury.

               The Wall is there, and Gilmore is somewhere along it, and Vex remembers what she told him hardly a day and a half ago: _It’s my fault._ It was true then, it’s true now. It was her fault she couldn’t handle some of the usual malice from Victoria and Humphrey. Her fault she couldn’t keep her damn footing on the Wall. Her fault Vax had crossed into this land of fallen Stars and magical candles and feathers and forces beyond comprehension. It was her fault she didn’t make it to Vax with the candle--too preoccupied with her own issues to even be able to help him on whatever foolish errand she had forced upon him with her clumsiness and thin skin. And she couldn’t even own her mistakes. There was nothing to show for this entire endeavor. She would cross the Wall with no brother and no Star.

               Vex’s knees shake. She  stays composed long enough to remind herself there’s nobody around to stay composed for, and then she drops to the ground. The sobs are hollow, dry, and frustrated. She can’t stand this. Can’t stand feeling useless. Can’t stand feeling worthless. But most of all she can’t stand the fact that she can’t seem to hold herself together. She just wants to be _okay._ If she were just a little stronger she’d be able to do things right: to think clearly and ignore insults and adversaries with confidence and gusto. Instead she’s here feeling sorry for herself, and reliving every horrible memory she can bring to mind. They flood her thoughts in a discordant cacophony of overwhelming sensations that render her immobile.

               With aching slowness and twitching, uncooperative muscles, Vex pulls her knees close to her chest. Moving is almost _painful._ Her head aches, distantly Vex realizes she’s incredibly light-headed. Her sobs are quick, erratic, borderline hysteric. She slips a hand inside the pocket of her vest and curls her fingers around the two letters there. She focuses on the warmth provided by the fur lining, and the nip of gently crumpled parchment against her skin. With some difficulty Vex manages deep, shaking breaths in and out: inhale on eight count, hold on four count, exhale on eight count, repeat. She forces herself to think only of the numbers as she counts and breathes.

               There’s a slow rush of wind, like a long exhale, and then a cool curtain of rain sweeps over Vex. She flinches, and draws her blanket tighter around her shoulders, but draws comfort from the white noise of rain. She looks skyward and lets the rain fall against her face, each droplet like the pinprick of numbness after extreme cold. Slowly, very slowly, Vex finds her calm while the dampness seeps into her clothes and bones.

 _It’ll be alright,_ she tells herself. She’ll make it home, and she can wait for Vax there. Best to cut her losses and just move on. Vex inhales deeply once more. So she messed up. So she doesn’t have anything to show for her little adventure? A hollow pang of regret hits her heart. _It’ll be alright,_ she tells herself again, wondering how many repetitions it will take to actually believe it. Only one way to find out. _It’ll be alright. It’ll be alright. It’ll be alright._

               Vex repeats her mantra over and over again until it starts to fade into the white noise of the rain. She pushes herself slowly to her feet and sways there. _It’ll be alright. It’ll be alright._

 _“It’s alright.”_ A voice--not Vex’s own--echoes gently in her head. Vex almost jumps out of her skin, and whirls around on the spot to check her surroundings. She’s alone. Her heart is pounding in her ears.

               “What?” she says out loud, just to make sure she hadn’t accidentally spoken the words herself.

 _“It’s alright,”_ the voice says again, and there’s a pull that draws Vex’s gaze up. She cranes her neck, and though the sky in covered with clouds she can sense a presence above them. A calm, warm soul high, high in the sky. _“You are tired, and hurt. And that’s okay.”_

               “Who are you? How are you doing this?” Vex demands, shaking. She touches her head briefly, wondering if perhaps she had over exerted herself to be hearing voices.

 _“I am called Yennen. Like Percival, I am a Star,”_ the voice explains gently. _“Unfortunately, I don’t have time to offer you much comfort, or explain everything. Vex’ahlia, Percival needs your help.”_

               “No he doesn’t,” Vex counters immediately, but as soon as the words leave her lips she is struck with a series of images. _Nine figures, each with silver-white hair, rising slowly from the dust, clinging to each other, weak, afraid. A family from on high brought low, clustered together, facing two dark figures._ A flash and a dizzying shift. _The family, warm, safe, unsuspecting, a soft halo of energy around each one. The flicker of an obsidian blade. Lights going out one by one._ Another flash, another shift. _Two children running in the dark, silver hair flashing in the moonlight. A glimpse of Percival’s face, young, bloodied, afraid. A glimpse of a girl at his side, even younger than he, terrified but determined. The hiss of an arrow in the dark. She staggers, a silent scream on her lips along with the taste of blood. Percival pulls her along. More arrows. Her body splits apart to reveal the luminous soul beneath, it sizzles against the open air, burns impossibly bright, and then is gone. Percival keeps running._ Another flash, and Vex blinks rapidly to clear her eyes. She wipes them hurriedly.

 _“A long time ago, the constellation Whitestone was pulled to the Material Plane. They were hunted and slain for their power by Sylas and Delilah Briarwood. Percival was the only one to return,”_ the voice--Yennen?--says quickly. Already it sounds distant and faded.

               “So? He got back to the Astral Plane before, he can do it again,” Vex says, thinking back to her conversation with Percival and his grim expression. Her head is still swirling with those brief, horrible glimpses of his past.

 _“Perhaps, but not if he continues as he is. He has the aid of an Ashari, but they are both walking into a trap.”_ Yennen’s voice is strained now, and Vex finds herself perched on her tiptoes as though it will help her hear him better.

               “Why not tell him this directly? Why come to me?” she asks, shaking her head.

_“There is a darkness surrounding him that my power cannot pierce through. I do not know its nature. You are the only one who can help.”_

               “But--”

_“There is a carriage coming. If you are to reach Percival in time, you must get on it by any means necessary.”_

               “He--”

 _“Run!”_ Yennen’s voice ends in a hushed whisper, but the urgency of the command cuts Vex to the core. She thinks of the flicker of the obsidian blade, the spray of blood, and the horrible sudden darkness left in the wake of burning bright light. Vex’ahlia turns, guided by instinct, and runs.

               The blanket flies from her shoulders as she bolts through the rain. Her feet carve muddy footprints into the ground, and the rain pelts relentlessly against her body. The distant rumble of thunder spurs her onward. Ahead she can see the dark outline of a coach approaching a curve on the road--presumably where Vex had departed to continue toward the Wall. Vex pushes herself into an even faster sprint, lungs burning.

               Vex’s eyes flicker between the carriage and the point where they will cross paths.

               “Stop!” she shouts, but her voice is drowned out by the wind. “Stop!” she shouts again, vainly, waving one arm as she approaches the road. The coach shows no sign of slowing. Vex can see a figure hunched over, hood pulled up against the rain, eyes fixed on the road as they reign their horses onward. Vex grits her teeth, doesn’t slow down even as she comes up perpendicular to the carriage. Vex jumps.

               The leap itself is solid, and as the carriage streaks past, Vex feels herself collide with it. Her feet make purchase on the wooden slat that acts as a step, and her fingers curl into the trim around the top. In fact under different circumstances, Vex might’ve actually been able to hold on. But as it stands: Vex is recovering from a mild concussion, is aching all over, just ran at a dead sprint after nearly hyperventilating, and on top of all that, it’s raining. Vex holds on for a second, and then slips off of the side of the carriage and rolls gracelessly to a stop in the dirt.

               Fortunately, the carriage driver has the decency to stop instead of drive on. Vex can hear the horses whinny as they are yanked to a halt, the carriage skidding along the slick road. Ears ringing, head spinning, fingers numb and skinned, Vex pushes herself up off the ground to face the quick steps of someone approaching.

               “Who are you?” the figure demands, stopping over Vex and pointing some sort of gleaming metal… wand at her chest. The sight of the object, though unfamiliar, sends a jolt of uncertain fear through Vex’s heart. She stops trying to rise and puts her hands out in front of her in a calming fashion.

               “Vex’ahlia,” she says quickly, “my name is Vex’ahlia.” The hand holding the wand lowers a little, enough for Vex to catch a glimpse of a stern-faced woman. “Please, may I ride with you?” Vex asks before she can say anything else.

               The woman pulls her hood back to get a better look at Vex. She has sharp features, and quick, dark eyes. Her hair is pulled back into a tight bun, and the lines of her face suggest that the tight-lipped, inquisitive, and mildly suspicious expression she wears now, is one that she wears often. She has, Vex thinks, the countenance of an overly-strict librarian.

               “Vex’ahlia,” she repeats, turning the syllables carefully over on her tongue like she’s testing them for traces of poison. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. I’m on an errand of extreme importance,” she declares, and turns sharply away to head back toward her coach. She pockets her wand as she does so.

               “All the more reason to take me with you!” Vex insists, scrambling to her feet, “There may come a moment when you need an extra hand!” The woman does not stop, only climbs on top of her coach and picks up the reigns again. She spares Vex a critical look.

               “I don’t think--”

               “ _Please_ ,” Vex says again, “maybe fortune sent me to you just as it sent you to me.” There’s a stern silence punctuated only by the incessant patter of rain and ominous rumblings of thunder. The woman scowls out a sigh and scooches over in her seat to make room.

               “Get on,” she acquiesces, rolling her eyes as she speaks. Vex feels her heart jump to her throat and almost chokes on her words as she clambers up alongside the woman.

               “Thank you,” she says, relieved, heart hammering. The woman hums and holds out a hand for Vex to shake. She takes it.

               “Vex’ahlia, you said?” she asks.

               “Yes, and you are?” Vex asks as the stranger drops her hand and adjusts her grip on the reigns. She lashes the horses back into motion.

               “Anna Ripley,” she says without looking back over at Vex. “Doctor Anna Ripley.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	10. (Un)familiar and (Un)friendly Faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy has an unexpectedly volatile reunion with some dark characters from his past.

               Percival and Keyleth are drenched and shivering by the time they finally come upon the inn.  The storm tosses the hanging sign around on its hinges, but Percival can just barely make out the words ‘Hanged Man’s Feast’ painted on the dark, sodden wood. The words arc over the image of a large, white tree with several silhouettes hanging from the branches. Percival looks the establishment up and down with a weary eye. The windows glow with warm, welcoming light. Still, he hesitates.

               “Maybe you ought to knock first?” Percival suggests. Keyleth looks back at him, and nods. She gestures for him to hang behind her, and steps up to the door. She takes the heavy iron knocker in her hand and slams it loudly against the door. There’s a moment of quiet where Percival holds his breath. He has positioned himself just beside the door so he won’t be seen by whoever opens it.

               When the door finally does swing open, Percival hears a small sympathetic gasp.

               “Why are you standing in the rain?” a young man’s voice asks. Percival can’t see his face, but something in the back of his mind twitches. The voice sounds… familiar.

               “Just waiting for you to open the door!” Keyleth says, voice chipper but teeth chattering. This incites a warm chuckle.

               “Well it’s open, come on in then!” he invites, and Percival can see a hand extend to beckon Keyleth forward. She glances sideways at Percival, nods, and crosses the threshold. Percival follows after her like a proud shadow, confident in his stride but still quiet and doing his best not to draw attention. He quickly realizes that his subtlety is wasted. There are no patrons in the main hall. Presumably all of them are asleep in their rooms, given the late hour.

               The room has high ceilings, and furnishings that remind Percival of a cozy hunting cabin. The walls are adorned with hides and pelts, there’s even a stuffed bear near the hearth where a fire is merrily crackling away. Percival promptly decides the decor is not to his taste, and is so preoccupied with this assessment that he almost bumps into Keyleth when she stops.

               “Wait here, I’ll retrieve my mother and she can get you some rooms,” the young man says. Percival catches a glimpse of the back of his head. His long black hair, worn loose, is briefly parted by a pointed ear as he turns swiftly around the corner. There’s a few muffled words and some heavy footsteps before another man enters the main hall. He steps behind the bar with a tired, but not unwelcoming smile.

               “Can I get you anything while you wait? Shot of firewater to put the heat back in your bones? You’re both pale as ghosts!” The man wears simple clothes and has an unassuming, forgettable face. His short beard and shoulder-length hair are brown and streaked with silver. Percival pegs him in his late fifties.

               “Nothing for me, thank you,” Percival says, rubbing at his arms.

               “Or for me,” Keyleth declines politely, and smiles, “it’ll go straight to my head.”

               “As you like,” the barkeep says, and pulls out a rag to polish a few mugs. “The wife’ll be out in a moment,” he assures. “I’d get you some rooms, but she doesn’t trust me with it.” He gives a good natured laugh, and Keyleth just nods awkwardly and shifts from foot to foot. Percival stares at the man. Something about him is… off. It’s a distant and unfounded suspicion, but his voice seems a little too smooth. A little too rich.

               “Sorry for the wait!” another voice interjects before Percival can speculate further. A woman bustles into the room with a ledger in one hand and a ring of keys in the other. She sets the book heavily down on the edge of the bar and beckons Percival and Keyleth closer. “I’ve a room available for the damp couple,” the woman says hurriedly. She looks a little haphazardly dressed, and the bags under her eyes suggest she’d recently been asleep.

               “Oh, we aren’t… we’re not _together,_ ” Keyleth corrects, tripping over herself a little with an embarrassed smile. The innkeeper looks up, expression aghast.

               “My apologies! Two rooms then,” she corrects quickly, and pulls out a pencil to scribble in her ledger. She pulls two keys from the metal loop. “It’s very late, and I wouldn’t feel right in my soul if I charged you for a full night of stay. Let’s say ten silver for the both of you until morning? Sound fair dear?”

               “Yes,” Keyleth says uncertainly, pulling a small pouch from her belt. Judging from her tone, she has no idea if that’s a reasonable price or not. To be fair, Percival doesn’t know either. He’s just relieved that Keyleth seems confident she has enough money to pay for it.

               “We have hot water for baths as well,” the innkeeper says, looking Keyleth and Percival over with a sympathetic eye. “You two’ll like as catch your deaths if you don’t get warm soon.”

               “I’ll be okay,” Keyleth says easily, “but he might like a bath.”

               “I would,” Percival answers truthfully. He can’t stop shivering. The thought of a warm bath and dry bed force out any of Percival’s suspicions. He just wants to sleep. As his eyelids droop, Keyleth exchanges ten silver for two keys and presses one into his hand.

               “I’m afraid the only two rooms we have available aren’t adjacent,” the woman says apologetically. “Dear, yours is the first on the right, and yours,” she nods to Percival, “is the second to last on the left.”

               “Thank you kindly,” Percival says with a grateful nod. He and Keyleth both turn to ascend the stairs and find their respective rooms. Percival is too tired, and too eagerly looking forward to his bath to feel the two sets of eyes that follow him up the stairs.

               “I know you’ll want to sleep in,” Keyleth says quietly, “but…”

               “It would be best to get an early start,” Percival agrees. “Don’t let me oversleep. We should be on our way as soon as we’ve had a bit of rest.” Keyleth nods, hand on her door.

               “See you in the morning,” she says.

               “In the morning,” Percy says and turns to traverse the hall to his room. It’s more luxurious than expected. A bed with soft, warm blankets sits in the corner with a nightstand. There’s a copper metal tub behind a paper screen. A metal tap is poised over the tub, and as Percival approaches he can see the magical runes scribed into it. Presumably they exist to heat the water as it passes through the tap. He turns the knob and sure enough, there’s a groaning of piping and steaming water starts to spill into the tub.

               Percival heaves a sigh and puts his half-numb fingertips into the stream. He snatches them quickly away with a gasp as the water scalds him. He shakes his head, and steps away to let the tub fill. The ache of his journey is starting to settle into his bones. Before it becomes too prominent, Percival strips and hangs his clothes to dry on the screen. After a second of consideration, he decides not to take off the necklace. The obsidian orb is heavy around his neck, but for some reason he stubbornly keeps it on. It smashed him from the sky. That makes it his. Maybe he can pawn it for Message ingredients. He doesn’t want to risk someone at the inn with sticky fingers pilfering it.

               Percival takes note of the bathrobe hanging on a peg on the screen and then slips into the still-filling tub. The water is almost too hot to bear at first, but his body slowly adjusts and relaxes. Once the tub is full, Percival turns off the tap and heaves a contented sigh. He slumps lower into the water, eyelids fluttering as he watches the fog creep across his spectacles.

               Percival isn’t sure if he’s been asleep a few hours or a few minutes when he hears a knock on his door. He makes a startled noise and flails awake. Lukewarm water splashes onto the floor as Percival grabs the edges of the tub to keep from slipping.

               “I--yes--hello?” he calls out, voice embarrassingly shrill. He quickly clambers out of the tub, heart pounding, and wraps himself in the robe. “Keyleth?” he calls toward the door.

               The door opens a fraction and a head pokes in. It’s the woman who had given them their rooms.

               “Sorry, didn’t mean to intrude,” she says. “The walls are just paper thin, and I didn’t hear you go to bed after the tap stopped running. Just wanted to be sure you weren’t accidentally drowning yourself… bad for business you see.” Percival clutches at the front of his robe and nods, already composed.

               “Yes, of course. Thank you for making sure I didn’t drown myself,” Percival says, and sidesteps toward the bed. That flicker of suspicion that had crept into his mind before springs to life again. He squints at the woman. Like her husband, she is unassuming with brown-and-silver hair pulled back into a loose bun. Wisps of hair fall around her face and rounded ears…

               “Everything alright?” she asks as Percival feels a missing puzzle piece snap into place. The young man that had opened the door for them had called this woman his mother. Percival distinctly remembers his dark hair and that brief, chance glimpse of pointed ears. Thinking back on it, the barkeep had had rounded ears as well. Something was amiss.

               “Fine,” Percival says, voice strained. The door opens further and the woman steps in.

               “You’re sure?” she asks. Her expression has shifted, and there’s a darkness that lurks behind her eyes that Percival hadn’t noticed before. He opens his mouth to call for Keyleth, but there’s a gentle push at the back of his mind. A jolt of terror streaks through his heart and he throws his will against the tickle of magic. For a second neither of them move, both paralyzed as their wills struggle against each other. A silent battle that has them both holding their breath. Percy can feel his heart hammering, can feel the power imposed on his mind and… slowly his fear subsides.

               “Everything is fine,” Percival assures finally, voice calm. He smiles at her, fears and suspicions forgotten. How could he have ever suspected this woman or her husband? Or their son even? He must be adopted. Certainly that is an act of charity and not suspicion! She smiles back at him.

               “Why don’t you go to bed dear?” she suggests sweetly. That’s an excellent idea. He is tired after all. Tired enough to fall asleep in a bathtub, certainly tired enough to fall asleep in an actual bed. Without really thinking about it, Percival finds himself slipping his still-damp toes underneath the covers. He pulls the sheets up to his chin, glasses still on, and watches his host step inside the room. She closes the door behind her with a gentle click, and crosses the room to his bedside.

               “Can I help you with something?” Percival asks earnestly, overwhelmed by the desire to aid his new friend. He props himself up on an elbow, looking up at her as she approaches.

               “Just lay back and close your eyes, Percival,” she says gently. He doesn’t think to ask how she knows his name, only does as she suggests. Almost immediately after his eyes close, Percival hears a loud thump and some commotion from downstairs. A clap of thunder rings through the air. He opens his eyes again, concern knitting his brow. He looks curiously up at the innkeeper.

               “Do you want me to go check on that?” he asks. She looks back at him, a deep frown across her lips.

               “I’m sure everything is fine,” she says, but her voice is dark. “Go to sleep. I’m sure it’s just another guest. I’ll go see to them.”

               “Alright,” Percival says. He lays back down. After watching his host leave, he closes his eyes.

 

* * *

  

               “Stable the horses,” Ripley commands Vex when they come skidding to a halt in front of the Hanged Man’s Feast. That’s the most the good Doctor has said to Vex in the last few hours of travel. In that time Vex has observed Ripley glancing fervently at some sort of compass, and spurring her horses on at lethal speeds. Miffed as she is at immediately being delegated the role of stablehand, Vex reasons that it’s only fair payment for her ride… and at the very least she can make sure the horses are alright.

               Ripley steps down from the coach and retrieves a bag from the cabin before stepping confidently up to the door. Vex, soaked and chilled to the bone, pats one of the two black horses on the neck as it heaves heavy, shuddering breaths. Vex turns her back on Ripley as the door swings open, casting a column of light out into the dark stormy night. She coaxes the horses with gentle words and firm commands around the side of the building to the stables that stand adjacent to the main inn.

               There doesn’t seem to be anyone there to help her, so Vex sets about unhitching the horses herself. She leads them into the barn, and the beasts seem grateful for the warm, dry interior. Vex takes a moment to stroke the long faces of the horses and whispers a brief thanks and apology.

               “Shouldn’t you be inside?” a voice calls from behind her. Vex gives a surprised start, and turns around to face the newcomer. They both speak simultaneously.

               “Sorry, I didn’t see any--”

               “If Lord and Lady--oh!” the young woman cuts herself off as soon as she sees Vex’s face. She’s young, perhaps a little younger than Vex herself. She has long, dark brown hair with a few streaks of silver-white uncharacteristic for someone her age. There are dark circles under slightly reddened eyes. She looks like she’s been crying. She also looks frustratingly familiar. But it’s impossible for Vex to recognize her because she’s never been in Stormhold before, and she’s too exhausted to compare her to faces she’s seen in Syngorn.

               “--one to help me. So I… sort of helped myself,” Vex finishes haltingly. “I hope that’s alright.”

               “Fine,” the girl says, and dusts off the front of her smock. “Sorry, I mistook you for someone else.”

               “No problem,” Vex says, and rubs her hands together to try and coax the warmth back into them. “I think I’ll head inside to warm up.” Despite her words, there’s a brief pause where neither of them move. Both teeter on the precipice of speaking. It’s Vex that breaks the silence.

               “Actually, I was wondering. I’m looking for a friend. Have you seen a man pass through here recently?” she asks, just as the woman is about to speak. Her mouth snaps shut, and something in her posture changes. Her mouth presses into a thin line, and a touch of desperation enters her eyes.

               “A man?” she asks.

               “White hair, glasses, about this tall,” Vex describes, gesturing. She’s wide awake now, watching the woman for her reaction--and there certainly is a reaction. She takes a quick step forward, hands clasped together. There’s a slight scraping noise as she moves, and as Vex’s eyes flicker downward she catches sight of a slight glimmer in the dim light. An impossibly small silver chain trails from around the girl’s ankle, and around the corner to another section of the stables. Vex’s eyes flicker back up to hers, concerned.

               “Are you here to help him?” the girl asks, voice hushed, strained, and Vex can hear the raw edge left by hollow sobs. A stab of panic touches Vex’s heart. Is she too late?

               “Yes,” she says immediately, unable to rid herself of the image of that jagged obsidian blade. “Where is he?”

               “Upstairs,” the woman says, “You have to hurry! I can’t--” she gestures downward to the silver chain, but Vex is already running.

               “I’ll be back for you!” she promises as she dashes by. Vex isn’t sure why she says it. She doesn’t know this girl, and if she keeps up at this rate she’ll be on adventures to help every stranger in Stormhold. But she says it, and she means it. The silver chain leaves a sick feeling in her stomach.

               The wind and rain immediately snatch away any warmth Vex had recovered in the stables. Vex considers the front door, and quickly decides against it. Instead, she circles around to the side of the building. Vex shrugs off her backpack, rolls her shoulders and then digs her fingers into the damp stonework. There are plenty of handholds for her where the mortar has crumbled away. Vex reaches the second story of the building with relative ease and peers into a dark window. There’s nobody inside.

               With some difficulty, she wedges her fingertips underneath the windowsill and pries it open. She slips into the dark room and creeps to the door. With her heart in her throat, she opens it a fraction and strains to see out of the crack. She’s in a room near the top of a staircase. She can hear Ripley speaking calmly down below and freezes.

               “And who are you to deny room and board to a paying customer?” Ripley demands.

               “Sorry miss, we just don’t have any rooms available for you,” another voice says. It’s deep and sonorous, and smooth like rich velvet. Vex glances back at the empty room she’s in, frowning, heart hammering. “You’d be better off continuing to the next inn.”

               “I will do no such thing,” Ripley says brusquely.

               “It would be wise, Anna, for you to leave,” the voice insists, and even from a distance Vex can hear the dangerous edge it gains.

               “I--wh… how do you know my name? Who are you?” Ripley asks, and Vex can almost hear her taking a cautionary step back.

               “Look again, Doctor.” Vex almost can’t hear these words, they are spoken so softly but there’s a touch of strange power to them that carries each syllable to her ears. Vex can hear Ripley gasp audibly.

               “--Lord Briarwood--” Ripley’s words are harried, strained and afraid. Vex almost chokes on her heart. At this point there’s some muffled noises of alarm, the sound of things being overturned, and then a loud clap of thunder. Vex flinches and almost jumps out of her skin. The thunder is alarmingly close, and sounds like it originated downstairs, and not high above them. Some sort of magic?

               From the corner of her eye Vex sees movement. She glances over and sees someone emerging from a room at the end of the hall. Vex quickly closes her door and flattens herself against the wall. A pair of quick footsteps draw near and then pass beyond her. Vex waits a beat for the steps to make their way downstairs and then opens her door again. As swiftly and quietly as she can, Vex darts down the hall where she saw the figure emerge. With trembling hands, she opens the door and peers inside. Percival is lying in the bed, eyes closed.

               Vex stifles a faint noise of fear and leaps forward. One hand goes to his shoulder to shake him awake, and the other to his mouth to stifle any alarmed noise he might make. Percival’s eyes open almost immediately, and Vex feels a wave of relief crash over her. He recoils away from her, confused, drawing to the far corner of the bed.

               “Vex’ahlia?” he asks, incredulously.

               “We have to leave!” Vex whispers hurriedly.

               “I need to sleep,” Percival scowls, pulling at his covers.

               “Look, something distracting is happening downstairs _right now,_ ” Vex says, and she grabs at Percival’s wrist. “We need to leave. You’re in danger, I can explain later once we’re out of here!” Without waiting for a reply, Vex yanks Percival forcibly out of the bed. He makes a noise of protest, but Vex is already dragging him out the door and back down the hall.

               “Vex’ahlia you’re being ridiculous!” Percival hisses. As she tries to drag him into the room she climbed into, he twists out of her grasp.

               “Perci--we don’t have time for this!” Vex stutters, frustrated, terrified. There’s another sharp clap of strange thunder that sends both Vex and Percival into an instinctive half-crouch. They exchange a look, Vex confused and frightened, Percival concerned and somewhat dazed. Before she can grab him again, Percival turns and starts to descend the stairs. Vex swipes at open air. “Perci--Per--son of a bitch!” Vex hisses, and jumps after him.

               As she descends the stairs, Vex catches a glimpse of a very unsettling scene. The dining area is in disarray, and Ripley is currently being pinned against a wall by a lithe towering man. This, in itself is unusual, but the _unsettling_ thing is the gaping _hole_ in his shoulder that he doesn’t seem to notice at all. There’s a spray of blood against the bar behind him. This, Vex concludes, must be Sylas Briarwood. He has one hand wrapped around Ripley’s throat, and the other around his wrist. Her strange metal wand is in her hand and is smoking at one end. There’s another woman standing behind Sylas, her hand resting reassuringly on his undamaged shoulder. She’s shorter and looks entirely ordinary, could this be Delilah? Vex imagined her as more… sinister.

               “Ripley.” The word escapes Percival’s mouth as a dry rasp. Though quiet, it’s enough to draw the attention of everyone in the room. Vex watches a distinct look of irritation cross Sylas’ face, like this whole circumstance is the most obnoxious inconvenience of his life. The woman next to him looks similarly exasperated. Ripley, bleeding from a wound on her forehead and in obvious pain, looks suddenly excited and an uncontrollable smile curls on her lips.

               “Percival,” she manages, and sounds almost giddy. There’s a joyfully predatory gleam that enters her eyes. As Percival instinctively shrinks back, and Vex instinctively steps forward and in front of him. Sylas and the woman at his side give her a curious look. They share a glance, and somewhat amused half-smiles.

               “Time to go, Percy,” Vex says weakly, and tries to back them both up the stairs without success. Her eyes dart fearfully between Ripley, Sylas, and Delilah. Percival is stuck to the spot.

               “Everything is fine, dear,” the woman says forcefully. As she does, Vex feels a strange presence in her mind. It’s vaguely reminiscent of the force that Gilmore had used to hold her captive at the Wall. Instinctively, Vex throws her will against it with as much energy as she can muster. For a moment it doesn’t seem like it will be enough, and then there’s a flash of warmth from the feather tucked behind her ear, and Vex feels the force snap and dissipate.

               Quite suddenly, the woman’s form shimmers and changes. A brief flicker of surprise crosses her face as her features become more elegant and youthful. Frayed brown hair becomes a shimmering auburn pulled into a braided bun. Her eyes become keen, sharp, and cruel. She looks down at her hands as they become lithe and delicate, and she heaves an exasperated sigh. Vex promptly decides she now looks sinister enough to be Star-murderer Delilah Briarwood.

               “Well then, I suppose we’ll have to do this the traditional way. Dear?” she prompts. Vex doesn’t wait around for her to finish speaking. In fact, she’s moving as soon as the spell fails to sway her. She seizes Percival by the forearm and moves to drag him back up the stairs. There’s a shout, another loud crack of thunder and the wooden wall near Vex’s head explodes into splinters. She staggers and barely manages to catch herself on the next step with her free hand.

               Vex looks up as someone appears at the top of the stairs. Another young woman with green eyes alive with magic, and a mane of hair colored as vibrantly as the crackling fires that dance around her fingertips.

               “Percival?” she says, looking down at the pair of them. Percival doesn’t say anything. There’s concern in her eyes and it’s probably genuine but there isn’t a lot of time for Vex to put thought into it. Also her flaming hands are a little distracting. Vex makes an executive decision to come to terms with all of this magic stuff later, and focus on _surviving now._

               “They’re bad! All bad!” Vex says loudly, scampering up the steps with Percival in tow and praying this woman is here to help. The stranger lifts one hand and the fire around her fingertips leaps from her palm and shoots in a bolt toward the trio of unsavory characters in the hall. Vex can’t help but spare a glance over her shoulder to watch the flames surge through the air. In that split second she sees Ripley is free and scrambling for cover behind the bar with Sylas in swift pursuit. The innkeeper, if she is even that, throws up her hands and the fire streaking toward her curves sharply to the side. With a flourish of her fingers, she sends it arcing around the hall and back toward her attacker. Still holding onto Percival, Vex throws herself down the stairs. She lands on the floor _hard_. With the explosion of fire ringing in her ears, Vex’s vision flickers briefly to darkness.

               When Vex blinks her eyes clear, Percival is staring at her. There are little cuts across his face, and his spectacles are cracked, but there’s a clarity in his eyes and expression that hadn’t been present before. He seems to have thrown off some of his stupor. His hands are on her shoulders, and he’s saying something but the ringing in Vex’s ears drowns it out. She shifts weakly, trying to stand, but the world is spinning and her muscles aren’t responding properly. Percival loops an arm around her waist and heaves her to her feet.

               With no regard to indignity or rules of propriety, Vex and Percival cling to each other, staggering desperately backwards as the sorcerer dashes down the stairs. She positions herself between Vex, Percy, and the advancing Delilah Briarwood.

               “RUN!” she shouts, Vex can barely hear it over the persistent ringing in her ears. The woman, certainly their ally now, throws a flurry of spells at her opponent. Delilah deflects them all, and turns a few to her advantage once more. Vex and Percival run for the door. With a flourish of her hand Delilah uses the roaring flames to corral the pair away from their escape. They stumble backwards together.

               “Dear do you mind?” Delilah asks. She doesn’t sound like she’s exerting herself at all, but her attention is focused on her attacker. Vex’s mind is racing, but constantly tripping over each thought. Her balance still isn’t quite right, and without Percival she’d surely fall over again. The memories Yennen had shown Vex keep flashing through her mind, and each one has Vex curling her fingers tighter into Percival’s arm.

               “DEAL WITH HER!” Sylas shouts over the roar of the fire. He doesn’t seem to be talking to Delilah. Through the ever-growing veil of flames Vex sees another dark shape lunge at Ripley. With Anna otherwise engaged, Sylas turns to face Vex and Percival. He stalks toward them with a predatory gleam in his eyes and a snarl on his face. He walks heedless of the fire, and it seems to part around him, cowering away from his wrath. There’s a long, obsidian blade in his hand. As soon as Vex sees it she’s pelted again with flashes of it striking down several Whitestone Stars. Vex can feel Percival freeze at her side. Vex forces them both backwards, matching Sylas’s advance step for step. Their retreat is stopped by a wall consumed by fire. The flames lick hungrily at Vex’s back as she looks around desperately for an escape. There’s nothing around them but fire.

               “Percy?” Vex asks, hoping that maybe he has some secret magic he can use. She looks over at him and his eyes are locked on Sylas. She can see the absolute frozen horror in them, and a low burning fury that’s struggling to break through. They don’t have time to wait for that anger.

               “You know Percival, we really didn’t expect to be seeing you again so soon,” Sylas says, voice calm but somehow still loud and clear over the surrounding chaos. Vex glances from Sylas to Percival, to the flickering fires that snatch at them nearby… just within arms reach. Vex slips her free hand into her pocket and curls her fingers around the remaining candle stub. “But I suppose an accelerated timeline doesn’t matter too much. And it was so kind of you to bring back what Ripley stole.”  Sylas’s eyes flicker to the black pendant around Percival’s neck.

               Vex tightens her grip on Percival even more. Sylas is five steps away. Vex turns, drawing her hand out of her pocket and looking up at Percival. His eyes flicker to hers, a touch of confusion darts across his expression as he studies her face. Vex can hear Sylas take another step behind her.

               “Percy, hold me tight and think of home,” Vex whispers urgently. He frowns at her, but she doesn’t have time to explain. She can almost hear the hiss of the obsidian as it arcs upward into the air. Vex steps forward, and reaches over his shoulder in an awkward embrace. Gritting her teeth and squeezing her eyes shut, Vex plunges her hand--and the end of the candle--into the fire.

               Vex screams into Percival’s shoulder as she feels the flesh on her skin burn. But she thinks of home. She thinks of the rooftop she always retreats to when she’s scared or nervous or hurt. Vex thinks of home and of nothing else, and after a moment that familiar lurching sensation seizes her heart, and she’s falling, falling, flying. _Home_ , she thinks. Home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Percival and the no good terrible horrible very bad night. But at least he got a bath right? To be fair, Vox Machina's entire existence is snatching spa days between running and fighting for their lives.


	11. Out of the Frying Pan and Into the Thunderstorm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vex and Percy have a moment to let recent, heated actions simmer down after escaping from the clutches of the Briarwoods and into the clutches of a fearsome Sky Captain.

 

               When Vex’ahlia tells him to think of home, Percival barely has time to comprehend her words before he feels that familiar magical tug at his core. Fortunately coming face to face with not one but three of the things you most fear tends to make one long for the safety and comfort of home. So Percival closes his eyes and thinks of Whitestone, safe and high up in the Astral Plane, quiet and far out of reach of anyone that would slaughter him for power… well. For the most part.

               The Gate Candle takes Percival and Vex’ahlia far away from the Hanged Man’s Feast. For a split second, Percival thinks that everything is going to be okay. He doesn’t know where Vex’ahlia got a Gate Candle, but he doesn’t much care as long as it’s returning him to the Astral Plane. But it doesn’t return him to the Astral Plane. It puts him right smack in the center of a thunderhead.

               The rain and wind are relentless and howl in his ears just as loudly as the fire had only moments ago. Percival flinches as a rumble of thunder passes them by, not quite the sharp crack of Ripley’s pistol, but similar enough to summon that reflexive terror. He and Vex’ahlia split apart. She turns away from him, swaying, and hunched over her arm, cradling it close to her chest.

               “What… what happened?” Vex’ahlia asks over the roar of the storm. Percival struggles with his reply. His heart is hammering a hundred beats a second, and the image of Sylas bearing down on him with _that sword_ is still freshly seared into his mind's eye.

               “What happened?” he asks, unable to keep the hysteric snap from his words, “What do you think? You said ‘think of home’ and you thought of your home, and I thought of mine, and now we’re caught halfway between the two!” He’d been so close! So close to getting back to the Astral Plane and leaving this nightmare behind him.

               Vex makes a strangled noise, something caught between a laugh and a sob.

               “Gods, I meant my home,” she says it so quietly that her words are almost snatched away by the wind.

               “You just said ‘home’! If you’d wanted me to think of your home, you should’ve said so!” Percy shouts, gesturing helplessly. It isn’t until she looks up at him with a hurt and frustrated expression that he realizes she hadn’t meant it to be antagonizing.

               “I’m sorry,” she replies angrily, posture still hunched and drawn in, but she straightens a little and lifts her chin as she speaks, “A bunch of crazy people try to kill you, and you wanted specific instructions? Maybe you’d like it in writing? Or a diagram? There’s a boy in Syngorn with lovely penmanship! I could commission him for an _Escape-From-Murderous-Innkeeper schematic!”_

               Percival has exactly half a second to be stunned by her quick wit before a flash of darkness wraps around them both. For what seems like the hundredth time in two days, Percival is knocked prone with a young woman at his side. A damp wooden deck rushes up to meet Percival. Another cut is added to the collection on his face, but thankfully his glasses don’t crack any more.

               Percival pushes himself to his hands and knees and discovers a heavy rope net is keeping him from rising all the way. He looks over and sees Vex’ahlia sprawled out next to him. Her eyelids flutter briefly, but she doesn’t stir or focus on him. Percival finally realizes how rough she looks. There’s a dozen or so cuts across her face, some new, some slightly older that have been torn open again. The rain is sending blood across her skin in watery rivers. Her clothes are torn and singed, and the arm she’s cradling is blackened and charred.

               “Vex’ahlia?” he asks, suddenly concerned and horribly aware of what an ungrateful self-centered prick he’s being--yet again. This is the second time she’s helped him and gotten nothing but trouble in return. She doesn’t respond when he calls her name. Percy looks up and finally notices the cluster of dark shapes around them. “Help her!” he commands, trying to sound authoritative, for whatever it’s worth. A few of the shapes stir. A flash of lightning illuminates a half dozen ragged looking deckhands, mostly human with two obvious exceptions. A gnome stands over Vex’ahlia, and beside him… is a monster. A humanoid of incredible size that would almost make the gnome look even more comically short if the situation wasn’t so terrifying.

               “Oi! Look here Captain Trickfoot!” the gnome shouts, and glances over his shoulder toward the stern of what Percival is finally realizing is an airship. A flicker of excitement crosses the back of his mind at the prospect of being aboard such a vessel. But it is quickly smothered by the immediate seriousness of the situation. “We caught ourselves a little bonus! A couple of Lightning Elementals!”

               Heavy, thumping footsteps cross the deck, and the crewmates part to make room for their captain. Percy expects an imposing figure, and though it stands much shorter than expected, it’s somehow still every bit as imposing as he imagined. Another gnome looks him and Vex’ahlia over with a stern expression. Her features are deceivingly pleasant, like something beautiful made out of steel. A single wicked scar curves down over her eye and along the side of her face. She has snow white hair pulled back into a tight bun, and a bright blue tunic cinched under an armored coat of silver metal. Her black oilskin cloak flaps wildly around her in the wind, like a shadow trying to grapple her figure but unable to to take hold. A flash of lightning illuminates her armored coat, temporarily making her a beacon of light. Percival can’t help but think wearing metal in the middle of a thunderstorm is a foolhardy decision. But the light lingers in the plates a little longer than it ought to, and Percy thinks he sees the flicker of magical runes skitter across the metal.

               “They don’t look like Lightning Elementals at all, Mr. Shorthalt,” Captain Trickfoot scolds.

               “What else could they be? Why would anything else be up here in this middle of a storm?” the first gnome asks. Captain Trickfoot turns her piercing blue eyes toward him, and spreads her arms out to gesture at her crew.

               “Maybe for the same reason we’re up here?” she offers. While they’re talking, Percival scoots closer to Vex’ahlia and pulls her into his lap, trying to get a sense for how badly she’s injured. She opens her eyes a little but can’t seem to focus on him. She’s always looking just past him, and obviously struggling to remain conscious. Percival doesn’t know a damn thing about medicine, but he knows she’s not doing well.

               “Who are you?” Captain Trickfoot demands, crossing her arms as Percival looks up at her. For once, Percival has no idea what to say. He wants to demand aid for Vex’ahlia again, but obviously they aren’t keen on giving it. Simple reflex wants him to introduce himself, but giving anyone his name at this point just seems risky and stupid. His indecision and slack-jawed expression don’t seem to impress the good Captain.

               “Want me to hit ‘em, Pike?” the massive creature asks gruffly. The captain stares at Percival grimly, and for a second he thinks she might say yes.

               “No Grog, let’s see if a night in our brig will loosen their tongues,” she says. Percival releases a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

               “You heard the Captain!” the gnome shouts, “Get these two bilge rats to the brig, and the rest of you get back to work!” The heavy net is torn off of Percival and Vex’ahlia. Percival feels a massive hand wrap around his arm and yank him to his feet. He yelps as Vex’ahlia is dumped back onto the ground.

               “Careful!” he shouts, reaching for her as he’s dragged away. “She’s hurt!” he says as two others pick Vex’ahlia up, one on either side of her. “She’s hurt!” he repeats, but the words die on his lips when he sees her weakly lift her head to look at him. Her eyes have a touch of shaky clarity, and she subtly waves him off with her good hand. Percival shuts his mouth, and allows himself to be dragged to the brig in silence.

 

               Vex'ahlia and Percival are lashed together, back to back on chairs in a dingy unlit room below the deck of the airship. Percival doesn’t struggle, only listens anxiously as Vex bites back small noises of pain as the ropes loop around her injured arm. As soon as the door closes and they are alone, Percival twists his head to try and get a look at her.

               “Vex’ahlia?” he asks.

               “Maybe don’t move so much,” she winces in reply. Percival immediately stops moving and settles back into his seat. His arms are tied to hers, and moving will jostle her injury. Right. Best not move then.

               “Sorry,” he says. She hums weakly in response. There are several long moments of silence filled only by the sound of Vex’ahlia’s slow, pained breathing. In the quiet, Percival’s heart finally starts to slow. For the moment, they’re safe… and he’s been presented with the opportunity to do something he should’ve done.

               Percival hesitates, wrestling with himself. Would making an apology be more for his benefit than hers? Is it really the best time to be doing this? He was an ass. She deserves an apology. And it was likely they were going to be murdered by pirates sometime in the near future, so probably the sooner he made that apology the better.

               “I’m sorry,” he says, head bowing a little.

               “Mmmfh… it’s fine, just don’t move,” Vex’ahlia groans.

               “No, not about--well yes about that, but… I mean I’m sorry for before,” Percival says, tripping over his words. There’s a long silence during which Percival’s chest fills with nervous apprehension. Vex’ahlia has gone very still and tense against his back. “Sorry for saying those things, I shouldn’t have. You didn’t deserve that. I was upset about something else and took it out on you. And I’m sorry for not leaving with you back at the inn when you said there was trouble. I mean, I was Charmed so it wasn’t totally me, but I’m sorry for my part in it. And you’re hurt, and it’s because you came back for me, and I’m sorry.” Percival has to force himself to stop talking, but he wants to ask his next question which is ‘ _why?’._ She could be home by now, safe and warm and unhurt. But for some reason she’s in the brig of an airship tied to a Star and a rickety wooden chair. For the life of him, Percival can’t imagine what that reason could be, but he’s sure he owes his life to it.

               “Thank you,” Vex’ahlia says slowly, her voice quiet and tight. And at first Percival thinks it’s strained by of irritation, but then Vex’ahlia gives a faint sniffle and he realizes she’s on the verge of tears.

               “I ought to be thanking you, really,” Percival says, not sure how to handle this situation. He tries to keep his voice light, but a somewhat formal tone creeps in. “You’ve saved me twice now, with no form of payment for your services. I--” Percival stops, feeling Vex’ahlia shake against his back. It takes him a moment to realize she’s laughing very softly.

               “Percy it’s… I didn’t do it so you’d pay me,” she says. _Percy._ The nickname strikes a strange chord in Percival’s chest. He’s not sure how he feels about it. “Well,” she amends quickly, “I did the first time. I mean, really I would’ve helped you anyway probably. And the second time was just… I mean I don’t really know you, but I also don’t want you to get killed. It’s just basic decency. You don’t owe me anything.”

               Percival knows he ought to be listening, but he’s still half distracted by being called _Percy._ In fact, looking back on it, Vex’ahlia has called him Percy _several_ times in recent events. Or maybe the Charm had made his memory a little woozy?

               “Did you… have you been calling me Percy?” Percival asks. He can almost feel Vex’ahlia blink with surprise.

               “I… don’t know? Maybe? Yes?” she says slowly.

               “Why?” the question leaves his lips with such perplexity that it causes Vex’ahlia to give another little laugh. It’s such a gentle noise, a little breathy with pain and exhaustion, but still beautiful.

               “I don’t know,” Vex’ahlia says, breaking Percival’s train of thought. “People were trying to kill you, and Percy is shorter than Percival so I went with that I suppose. Should I have been paying more attention to semantics while trying not to get murdered?”

               “Well, I suppose it’s permissible given that situation,” Percival acquiesces, “but in the future, my name is Percival.” There’s another short silence.

               “Sure, Percy, no problem,” Vex says. Oh good, she’s going to do it to irritate him now. Splendid. Percival shakes his head and shifts slightly in his chair to try and achieve a less horrendously uncomfortable position. Vex hisses in pain, and Percival immediately stops moving. He cringes at the sharp stab of guilt in his stomach.

               “Are you alright?” He isn’t sure why he asks the question, given the answer is obvious. Probably it’s some ingrained habit that has to do with conversational etiquette. An empty question that begets an empty answer regardless of what the truth is. Vex does not give the expected empty response. That polite reassurance that her discomfort is manageable and not of consequence. Her reply is slow, labored breathing, trying to manage pain before formulating words.

               “No,” Vex’ahlia says finally through gritted teeth. She heaves a very slow sigh. “My arm is on fire. My head is killing me, and everything in-between hurts too… It could be worse though. I could be a prisoner in the brig of a flying ship and tied to a Star who’s wearing nothing but a necklace and a bathrobe--oh wait...” she trails off teasingly. Percival glances down and remembers that he is, in fact, clad in nothing but a bathrobe and a necklace. A heated flush rises in his cheeks, and he is suddenly very glad Vex’ahlia is facing the opposite direction.

               “Yes… well…” Percival says awkwardly, and resists the urge to try and shift again.

               “We’ll figure it out,” Vex’ahlia reassures quietly. _We’ll._ That startles Percival almost as much as _Percy._ Even after all of this, she’s still willing to help him. To figure it out together. Not that either of them have much of a choice, but still. She could pull away from him. She could reveal he’s a Star and use that as leverage to free herself. But for some reason, Percival knows she won’t. He’s sure he doesn’t deserve her decency, but he is immensely grateful for it. For some reason he finds that he trusts Vex’ahlia just as much as Keyleth--Good gods! Keyleth! Percival feels a stab of guilt and panic touch his heart. They'd left her to fend for herself against the Briarwoods. The Ashari were a strong and clever people... Keyleth could probably escape their clutches. But worry for her well-being settles into Percival's heart nonetheless.

               “Vex’ahlia?” he presses, meaning to ask her about how she knew to come find him. About where she got her hands on a Gate Candle. About a dozen other things, but she replies with,

               “Hmm?” and she sounds so small and so tired. All of his questions die in his throat. They can wait.

               “Nothing. Get some sleep. We ought to at least be a little rested before dealing with pirates that want to kill us,” Percival says. Vex lets out one last breathy laugh, and for a second Percival thinks she might say something else. But then he feels her lean slightly against him, and hears the gentle rhythm of her breathing, and knows she is fast asleep.

               Percival gingerly leans back against Vex’ahlia and closes his eyes as well. He does not sleep immediately. The faces of his family peer at him mournfully from the darkness of his mind… their ghosts do not make it easy to rest. But slowly, the patter of rain against the hull of the ship, the marrow-deep exhaustion in his bones,  and the steady draw of Vex’ahlia’s breathing lure him into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well of course we couldn't rightly leave out Pike, Scanlan, and Grog, now could we?


	12. Unplanned Relations and Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things quickly become more ridiculous than they already have been... but everyone rolls with it and has a good time.

               When Vex opens her eyes, everything still hurts. She does a quiet count of her injuries. She can feel the cuts and scrapes on her face, stiff lines of vague pain that refuse to move when her expression contorts into a grimace. Her head throbs in a dangerous manner. She can hear each pound of her heart in her ears, and she’s in a constant state of vertigo. The world sways slightly, like she’s at the very top of a tree as the wind pushes it gently to and fro. Worst out of all of it is her arm. If Vex so much as twitches, the ropes move against her burnt flesh and when they do they feel like branding irons.

               Warm shafts of light spill into the dingy room through a porthole. Vex is having trouble thinking through the not insignificant amount of pain she’s in. Still, she manages to realize that they probably don’t have a lot of time before they are paid a visit. Vex’s head is leaned back on Percy’s shoulder. She can see the side of his head, and his short but somehow still tangled silver-white hair. From the corner of her eye she can spot a frosting of scruff along his jaw. His head is tilted forward so that his chin is resting on his chest. It puts his ear right next to Vex’s mouth.

               “Percival?” she says gently. No response. She closes her eyes and takes a few steadying breaths. The nausea caused by her vertigo subsides somewhat.  _ Alright. Try again Vex. _  Remembering their conversation from the previous evening, Vex feels a little grin curl across her lips. “Percy?” she says, a little louder. Percy lets out a low grumble, and Vex braces for him to twitch awake and jostle her arm. Thankfully he doesn’t jump to wakefulness, and Vex lets out a breath of relief.

               “What?” he asks, voice thick and grating. Vex can hear him trying to shake the sleep from his mind. He seems none too pleased about it. Vex lifts her head off of his shoulder. She has to do it slowly or else it’ll send the room spinning helter skelter.

               “Eyes open, Grumpy. We should probably be ready for when pirates come to kill us.” She means for it to sound like a joke, but there’s a grim edge to her words that negates any joviality. 

               “I think I prefer Percy over Grumpy,” Percy says, oblivious to her gallows humor. Vex wants to laugh but knows it will just make her head hurt. She smothers the noise as best she can. Percy sighs and lifts his head from his chest.

               “Be happy you’re not stuck with ‘Stubby’,” Vex says.

               “Someone calls you ‘Stubby’?” he asks, and the confusion in his voice is palpable.

               “My brother,” she explains briefly.

               “Ah. Vax...ildan?” Percy asks slowly, straining to remember the name. Vex is actually surprised he remembers it, and correctly too.

               “Yes,” she says.

               “Siblings and their nicknames,” Percy says with a scoff. His tone says he’s had personal experience with this, and Vex wonders what nicknames Percy had been given by his brothers and sisters. She takes a second to theorize, but her brainstorming session is cut short by and unprovoked twitch of pain in her arm. Vex flinches, hissing through her teeth. She feels Percy tense against her back, trying his best not to move a muscle.

               “It wasn’t you,” she reassures weakly.

               “How are you doing?” Percy asks. Vex is too busy gritting her teeth to give the immediate, reflexive reply of ‘fine’.

               “Things… could be worse,” she says, but there’s an upward pitch at the end of her sentence that almost makes it a question. Because Vex isn’t quite sure how it could be worse. 

               “I can do the talking when it comes to it,” Percy offers. Vex lets out a sharp, strained breath. They’re in the air, but she swears with all of the pitching and swaying the room is doing, they ought to be on stormy seas.

               “Yes that would be… good. Dammit! The room won’t stop spinning!” She wants to stomp her foot like a petulant child, but that’ll probably just make things worse.

               “Don’t close your eyes,” Percy suggests, “sometimes it helps to visually ground yourself.”

               “Right,” Vex says, and focuses on a bolt that’s riveted into the metal rim of the porthole. “So what’s our story?” she asks. It helps to distract herself and thinking about the task at hand seems as good a distraction as any. “Obviously we don’t want to mention your… origins.”

               “Yes, it would be wise to keep that to ourselves, I believe,” Percy agrees quietly.

               “We’re both from Syngorn then? Unless you’d like to pick a different place? Somewhere you know about, so I don’t have to do much talking about it?” Vex suggests. Percy is right, it helps to focus on something. The room has stopped spinning. Of course everything still hurts, but every little victory counts.

               “Syngorn will do, I think. I believe I could speak convincingly of it if necessary. Now as to why we’re traveling together--” Percival’s words are cut off by the sudden slamming of the door. It bursts open and bangs harshly against the wall. Both Percy and Vex jump at the noise. Vex’s vision hazes over with pain for a few seconds and a hoarse cry escapes her lungs as the ropes drag across her arm. 

               Dimly Vex hears the door swing shut. Her eyelids flutter open and she weakly turns her head toward the newest occupant in the room. Captain Trickfoot herself, in all of her three-foot-tall glory. Vex hadn’t been fully conscious the previous evening , so this is her first real look at the ship captain. She’s a little more composed this morning. Her plated coat shines with unusual luster, her hair has been braided and pulled back into a tight, neat bun. She’s beaming at them, hands propped on her hips. Her smile is… unnervingly genuine. 

               “Nephew!” she booms brightly. Both Percival and Vex blink as though trying to use morse code to spell out their confusion. “Bet you thought Aunt Trickfoot had forgotten your face, eh?” she asks, voice unnecessarily loud. Or perhaps to Vex’s aching head, everything is unnecessarily loud.

               “I--” Percy makes an abbreviated noise of bewilderment. Captain Trickfoot walks over and smacks her fist playfully against Percy’s thigh. Vex turns her head just in time to see the captain give Percival an exaggerated wink. What in the hell is going on? “Yes I did think that?” Percy says haltingly, half questioning. 

               “Well, I just thought I’d give you a good old fashioned scare. Remind you why they call your aunt the Monster of the Seven Skies,” Captain Trickfoot says. She waits expectantly for Percival to say something, and then tilts her head pointedly toward the door. 

               “I don’t know--how I could forget... aunt,” Percy says, and Vex can hear the frown in his voice. 

               “Aaagh! Of course not, but I couldn’t resist a little fun. Now who’s your lady-friend?” Captain Trickfoot asks, and she comes around to stand in front of Vex. She smiles at her. Vex lets out a breath, almost a laugh, and finds herself nervously, uncertainly, smiling back. It’s a show. A trick. But is the trick being played on her and Percival, or someone else? Vex glances over toward the door, and spots the slight shift of shadow underneath it. Vex abruptly realizes there must be some kind of audience the other side.

               “This is Vex’ahlia,” Percival says. Vex can hear the gears turning in his head as he speaks--or perhaps it’s just the throbbing pulse in her own skull.  “She’s... been traveling with me from Syngorn. We didn’t mean to--literally--drop in so unexpectedly, but we were rather hoping you could give us a hand,” Percival says, and he trips over the vague description of Vex but only barely. Otherwise his voice is now strong and confident. 

               “Anything for my favorite nephew! Well, almost anything,” Captain Trickfoot says.

               “Would ‘almost anything’ include cutting Percy and I free?” Vex asks, words a little short with pain. Captain Trickfoot picks up on the sharp tone immediately, and her smile drops a little.

               “I suppose it would,” she says, but the bravado is a little more forced now. Captain Trickfoot pulls a knife from her belt and steps between Vex and Percy to cut them free. Vex can hear the gnome give a small, sharp inhale when she spots Vex’s arm.

               With great care, the captain cuts away the ropes, careful not to let them fall away from Vex’s arm where they have crusted into the burns. The pressure on the ropes releases and relieves a little of the pain. Vex lets out a grateful breath of air. She realizes how tense she’s been, and her muscles ache a little as she shifts. She also realizes, as she flexes her undamaged fingers, that at some point she had grabbed Percy’s hand. His fingers slip out from between hers, and he shakes them out a little. Based on how cramped her muscles feel, her grip must’ve been rather tight. Vex looks down at her now-empty hand, a little dazed and somewhat embarrassed. When she looks up, Percy is standing uncertainly behind Captain Trickfoot. His eyes are narrowed and focused on-- _ ow! _

               Vex chomps down on a hiss of pain as the gnome gently lays her hand over the burns. She’s about to protest and shake off the intrusion, but there’s a soft pulse of warm light that stops her. The light originates from Captain Trickfoot’s palm, and it runs along the charred lines of Vex’s flesh like liquid gold. It’s warm and soothing like a balm, and seeps into her skin like water into thirsty earth. Almost immediately the pain in Vex’s arm subsides. A reassuring warmth travels through her body, across each aching muscle, and chases away the harsh throbbing pain in her skull.

               Vex lets out a weak sigh of relief. She feels… exhausted, but eons better than she had a moment ago. Her eyelids flutter, and when she blinks them open there is a relieving clarity to her vision. Not only that but her thoughts come more freely, and easily. It’s like taking a breath of fresh air after being cooped up in a dusty room all day. Vex looks down as Captain Trickfoot unwinds the rope from around Vex’s arm; which now stings, is splotchy, and reddish-pink, but considerably better off than a moment ago.

               “Thank you,” Vex says quietly. And for the first time in three days, speaking doesn’t send a patter of painful alarms pealing in her brain. “--Captain,” Vex adds belatedly, not sure if she ought to treat that rank like a noble title.

               “Any friend of my favorite nephew can call me Pike,” the gnome says kindly and pats Vex’s leg. She then claps her tiny hands together and looks back up at Percy. “Now!” she says brightly, “Nephew I believe I’ve played enough tricks on you. Why don’t we see about getting you some more suitable clothes? And you can regale me with your tale as to how you came aboard my ship in such an unusual manner!” Her voice is loud enough so that Vex knows she’s speaking for the people outside the door as well. It works, and Vex can hear a brief scrambling of footsteps as they hurry away.

               “Oh no I’m--” Percy stops mid-sentence and glances down at his clothing--or lack thereof. Vex has to duck her head to hide her grin as he clears his throat and readjusts his robe. “--wearing a bathrobe. Yes, that would be good I think, aunt.” Pike smirks at him and walks toward the door. She gestures for them both to follow as she opens it and steps through. Vex and Percy exchange a glance, a shrug, and both walk after the diminutive ship captain. As they approach the doorway, they bump shoulders and jump back a step.

               “Oh, sorry, I shouldn’t--”

               “Sorry, I didn’t mean--” they stammer simultaneously. Vex laughs and pulls her injured--though significantly improved--arm close to her stomach. Percy glances down at it. He opens his mouth to speak, but closes it and then steps back. He holds his hand out to gesture through the door.

               “After you,” he says, voice firm, posture slightly bowed at the waist. Vex blinks and almost laughs. The gesture, though gentlemanly and polite, is made comical by the fuzzy bathrobe and disheveled state of his hair. Perhaps Percy realizes this, because he straightens a little and glances away.

               “Thank you,” Vex says, and gives a small curtsey in an effort to make him feel less embarrassed. She walks through the doorway and after Pike. 

               Captain Trickfoot leads them down a corridor and then up a short flight of stairs and onto the deck of the airship. Vex braces and squints as she steps into the sunlight, but the brightness of the midmorning sun doesn’t pierce her eyes like she expected it to. She lets out a sigh of relief and takes a moment to focus on and enjoy the warmth of the sun on her skin and the gentle buffeting of wind that passes them by. Percy ascends the stairs and hovers close to Vex’s shoulder as they follow Pike.

               Scattered crewmembers pause in their work as Pike leads Vex and Percy across the deck.

               “Lads, this is my favorite nephew, Percy!” Pike says, glancing back at the pair as though uncertain she is remembering the name correctly. Percy makes a noise in the back of his throat, but doesn’t correct her. “And his good friend Vex’ahlia. They’ll be traveling with us for a time.” A few crew members draw a little closer as Pike pauses in front of two large doors that presumably lead to her cabin. Vex and Percy stop with her. From the corner of her eye Vex notes that Percy is straight-backed and apparently unabashed at being dressed in only a bathrobe. It looks as though he is completely at ease. He’s actually wearing four things, Vex thinks: a robe, a necklace, spectacles, and an excellent poker face.

               “Nephew?” one of the crew members pipes up. It’s the other gnome on the crew. He’s dressed in a billowing shirt and pants with a fur-lined vest and fine leather boots. His hair is a soft brown and is half pulled into a ponytail. Another crew member looms behind him, enormous in stature with pale grey skin. He wears leather breeches, a fur-lined harness, and nothing else. The minimalist outfit does a good job showing off the ink-black tattoos that mark his skin, and the rippling muscles that shift beneath them.

               “Yes,” Pike says. There’s a scattering of murmurs through the crew that has gathered around. No doubt they are comparing the height difference between Pike and Percy. Vex suddenly wonders how exactly Pike is going to make this ruse work.

               “Don’t you see the family resemblance, Scanlan?” the monster-of-a-man asks. He runs a hand thoughtfully through his thick, bristly, black beard and then gestures from Pike’s snow-white hair, to Percy’s. 

               The gnome, Scanlan, gives a small ‘ahh’ noise and nods. Much to Vex’s surprise, the other gathered crew members mimic the gnome.

               “Thanks Grog. He’s just a bit tall, I didn’t notice the hair at first,” he says.

               “My brother married  _ above _ him,” Pike adds with a wink. Scanlan gives an appreciative chuckle.

               “Didn’t know you had a brother, Captain.”

               “She does,” Grog says, and Vex notices a quick glance that he and Pike exchange. Vex can’t help but think it’s not unlike the look she exchanges with Vax when they’re privy to a joke nobody else is in on. 

               “Well… the more you know,” Scanlan says, and makes a strange arcing gesture with his hands.

               “Alright, alright,” Pike says, and makes a shooing motion, “You’ll see plenty of our guests later, and have a lovely time pestering them with questions, I’m sure,” she says pleasantly. There’s a beat of silence, and Grog clears his throat loudly. Pike quickly raises a fist and scowls at her assembled crew, “Back to work you air-dogs!”

               “Back to work!” Grog repeats, barking in his deep bassy voice. The crew jumps a little, and scatters back to their respective tasks. Pike opens the door to her cabin, and Percy walks in. Vex lingers a moment longer, watching the retreating form of Grog. He strikes an imposing figure, and is given a wide berth by all.

               Grog senses her gaze and glances over his shoulder at her. Her expression remains thoughtful, and he doesn’t seem to know how to respond to that. He gives her a rather garish attempt at a smile, half a grin and half a snarl, and then turns back to his work. Vex wonders how many of the crew members were  _ actually _ fooled and how many just didn’t want to cross the behemoth named Grog. She glances about and notes that everyone seems to be relatively cheerful. They were either happy enough to go along with the ruse, or oblivious enough to accept it without question. The latter seemed almost impossible. Back in Syngorn, the idea of a human and an elf having children was… incorrigible. A human and a gnome would no doubt be just as unacceptable a pairing to the nobles of her homestead. Perhaps it’s different here in Stormhold. Nobody here had batted an eye at Pike’s insinuation. In fact, since arriving, Vex hasn’t been asked about her heritage once. Sure Percy had been able to spot she wasn’t nobility, but it hadn’t had anything to do with her being a half-elf. She realizes this with a slight start, and a little smile creeps onto her face before she can stop it. Before she can think much on the revelation, she hears the door open again behind her.

               “Vex’ahlia?” Percy asks.

               “Coming,” Vex says, and turns on her heel to follow Percy inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU NERDS READY FOR SOME IMMINENT FLUFFY CHAPTERS? BECAUSE I AM! 
> 
> Next week is going to be crazy hectic for me with Youmacon, so it's unlikely there will be an update. Keep an eye out for something maybe around 11.12.16? Maybe? I have a lot of exams, and a bunch of work to do on my senior project.
> 
> But if any of you Critters are gonna be at Youmacon this year, LOOK FOR ME! I'll be dressed as Vex'ahlia!! I'd love to say hello to you guys!


	13. What Are You Looking For? Some Clothes if Nothing Else

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flirting? In a massive wardrobe? In various states of dress and undress? Why yes... don't mind if I do.

               “Well!” Pike says, clapping her hands together as soon as the door swings shut, “We can talk safely in here. Sorry about the show, I have a reputation to keep up. We haven’t properly been introduced, I’m Pike Trickfoot! Captain of the Broken Howl, vicious and cunning Monster of the Seven Skies.” Her entire demeanor has changed. Gone is the ramrod-straight posture and squared shoulders, the clenched fists, and the steely expression. Her shoulders slope and relax, and her expression melts into a warm smile. She stands with her back to a large writing desk and plush armchair. The entire back wall of the cabin is glass, and sports an incredible view of the sky and landscape of Stormhold. The other walls are dotted with bookshelves and trunks. Wooden screens section off either side of the the cabin, presumably offering privacy to a sleeping and washing area. The wooden floors are lined with finely woven, thick rugs, and walls not covered by shelves are adorned with tapestries. Everything in the cabin lends itself to an atmosphere of warmth and home.

               Neither Percy nor Vex know what to say. They exchange a glance, still uncertain.

               “My name is Vex,” Vex offers up at last. She thumbs the frayed end of her braid as she speaks. “This is Percy,” she says, gesturing. Percy makes a noise in the back of his throat again, and this time he does speak up.

               “Percival,” he corrects, adjusting his glasses. Pike exchanges a raised brow glance with Vex, who mouths the word ‘Percy’ at her from over Percy’s shoulder. The gnome grins at her. Vex decides she likes her. Percy follows Pike’s gaze over his shoulder to Vex. His brow is furrowed at her suspiciously.

               “My arm,” Vex says quickly, avoiding eye contact with Percy, “How did you do that?”

               “Ah,” Pike says, and taps her armored coat. She reaches beneath the neckline and produces a small symbol on a chain. Vex doesn’t recognize it, but Percy makes a small noise of recognition.

               “You’re a cleric of Sarenrae!” he says brightly, and there’s a relief to his voice that makes Vex think this is a good thing.

               “I am,” Pike confirms, cupping her holy talisman in her hands. It glows faintly beneath the shadow of her fingers. 

               “Your coat, it’s enchanted isn’t it? I can feel the charge on it from over here. Is it electrical ? ” Percy asks. There is such an earnest curiosity in his voice that Vex can’t help but glance over at him with half of a smile. His intellect is actually somewhat endearing when he’s not using it to be an insufferable jerk.

               “My crew and I harvest the lightning from storms up here, but I’m more interested in a different kind of light. Sarenrae’s power bleeds through the walls of the planes, and exists in small amounts everywhere. It exists in greater amounts where those walls are thin.”

               “Storms. Fluctuations in the veil tend to create pressure shifts that conjure up storms,” Percy explains, glancing over to Vex.

               “Exactly. My armor, and my symbol, capture and store that energy, and Sarenrae allows me to use it for a number of different things. Healing is one of those things. How is your arm by the way?”

               “Fascinating,” Percy murmurs under his breath. The comment is mostly to himself, and he is too interested in examining Pike’s coat to look to either of them for a reply. He is struggling to keep a polite distance from Pike while still edging close enough to squint at the faintly glowing runes that occasionally dart over the surface of the metal. Pike doesn’t seem to mind his curiosity.

               “Much better, thank you,” Vex says, running her fingers delicately over the skin. It stings, and is uncomfortably warm, but otherwise feels fine.

               “That was a nasty burn,” Pike says and slowly folds her arms so the metal plates on her coat clink quietly together. “Must’ve been quite ah… quite an adventure. Whatever it was you were doing…” her words trail off, the question unasked but still lingering. Vex thinks back on the haze of fear and fire and swallows. Quite the adventure indeed, and she has no idea how much of it to tell their new companion about. Vex glances over at Percy for guidance, but he has gone similarly quiet and still. He’s staring at her arm. When he looks up and catches her gaze, Vex is struck by the guilt on his face. The expression is whisked away a heartbeat later. The silence stretches on as they stare at each other in wordless hesitation.

               “Alright,” Pike says finally, and waves her hands as if to literally clear the air. She walks over to a large armoire, easily three times as tall as herself, and pulls the doors open. “You two can go ahead and figure out what you’re going to tell me while you get changed. There’s a basin in there if you’d like to wash up as well.” Pike walks away from the armoire and hops into the plush armchair behind her desk. 

               Vex and Percy exchange a quizzical look as Pike pulls out an inkwell, quill, and ledger, and sets about some work. Together they approach the wardrobe and peer inside curiously. It’s… big. And not in the traditional sense that furniture is big. It’s big in the impossible, magical sense. The opening provides ample space to step through, and inside is something like a massive walk-in closet with two branching off rooms. The room in the armoire is too large to exist as part of the Broken Howl itself.

               Percy pokes his nose in suspiciously. Vex pulls back and examines the outside of the armoire. She runs her hands along the smooth paneled back, fingers creeping between the wood and the wall of the cabin. She uses her fingertips to trace the intricate carvings along the trim. There is the faintest tickle of… something at her skin. A delicate hum, like static electricity. Magic, Vex decides. More magic. Splendid. Her nails trail along something that looks like a carpenter's signature.

               “Mordenkainen?” Vex asks out loud, reading the name stamped underneath an unfamiliar sigil. She leans back into view of Percy and Pike. “What does that mean?”

               “He crafts containers that extend into extra-dimensional space,” Pike supplies, “Scanlan got this one for me.” Vex looks back into the armoire and can’t contain an excited giggle. Percy glances over at her skeptically. She ignores his frown and steps into the armoire, moving quickly into the space. She can feel Percy swipe at the air behind her, trying to pull her back, but she’s already inside.

               “Vex’ahlia,” he calls after her, and glances over his shoulder at Pike. His tone says he doesn’t entirely trust the good captain’s magic furniture. Vex doesn’t care. Four days ago she would have never dreamed any of this to be possible: candles that whisked you across the world, ships that flew through the air, doors that lead into different planes of existence, Stars that walked, talked, and sassed. Honestly she ought to be curled up in a ball rocking back and forth because  _ none of this made any sort of sense. _ And on top of that, half of the strange new powers she’d encountered had actively attempted to kill her. And yet… somehow all of it just filled her with awe and excitement! It was a strange new world capable of wonders and terrors, and Vex found that she rather liked all of it.

               “Come on Percy,” Vex goads, running her hand along a long rack of hanging clothes, “Take a leap of faith!”

               “I have done quite enough unexpected falling as of late without making an intentional leap, thank-you,” Percy says, folding his arms and refusing to step into the armoire. “And I’m not a man of great faith,” he adds in an undertone, glancing away uncomfortably. Vex can feel a certain gravity and darkness to his words. She considers him for a moment. 

               “I don’t know you well enough to judge that part of your character,” Vex admits, and Percy quirks a brow at her. “But, with a name like Percival Fredrickstein Von Man Klowsomething DeRolo--”

               “--Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski De Rolo--” Percy corrects, rattling off the name begrudgingly under his breath.

               “--yes that. With a name like that, I know for certain you’re the type of person who doesn’t want to go traipsing around in a bathrobe. So, if for nothing other than the sake of dignity and fashion, step inside and get dressed, darling.” Her tone is teasingly patronizing, and as she speaks Percy glances down at himself and tugs consciously at the robe. When he looks back up at Vex there’s a curious gleam in his eye, and Vex knows immediately he’s trying to size her up. Instinct and uncertainty lift her chin a little higher. She grins at him to hide her sudden nervousness, and flashes him a quick wink. 

               “Well alright, if it’s for the sake of dignity and fashion,” he concedes and wearily returns the smile. He steps carefully into the armoire and walks slowly forward. Vex gestures broadly at the rack of hanging clothing. Fortunately for them both, there seems to be a vast array of clothes from gnome-size to human-sized.

               “Find something adequately dignified and fashionable. I’m going to wash up a bit,” Vex says, and brushes past Percy into one of the adjacent rooms. Within there’s a small vanity with a washbowl and soft folded towels. They’re gnome-sized, but serviceable. There’s a paper screen with a large tub behind it, and Vex seriously considers a bath before resigning herself to a more practical, quick scrub at the wash basin.

               Vex strips unceremoniously down to her smallclothes and proceeds with a quick wash. She has to kneel in front of the vanity, but the small furniture isn’t too much of a hassle. The layer of soot and grime comes off with a little work, but a thin residue still clings to her skin. Vex eyes the tub longingly as she plucks the raven feather from her hair--remarkably undamaged despite her adventures--and combs out her braid with her fingers. If there happened to be time later, she was definitely going to want a bath.

               Vex leaves her hair down and tucks the feather behind her ear again. She reaches into the inner pocket of her singed vest and retrieves the two rumpled letters. She runs her fingers over the letter from her mother, and is reminded of the candle that had once accompanied it. She wonders if, perhaps, her mother had come from Stormhold. After all, there was no magic across the Wall in the land of Exandria. Had Syldor known about the candle? Did he know about the magic that lay at the doorstep of his home city? 

               An aborted noise of surprise and embarrassment, followed by a brisk knock jostles Vex from her pondering. She glances over her shoulder at Percival, who is staring pointedly at his toes with a bundle of clothing folded over an arm. Vex suspects he had walked into the room without thinking about her possible state of undress. He clears his throat.

               “Do you mind if I wash?” he asks. The lighting is low, and something about the room smothers sound. The tiled floor is dark, and the walls are adorned with swaths of deep navy fabric, the same color as the night sky. Everything lends itself to a very intimate and isolated atmosphere. Vex feels a shiver tremble at the top of her spine, and is suddenly vividly aware of how cold the tile is against the bare skin of her legs folded beneath her.

               Vex isn’t sure how to react. She’s teetering on the verge of being embarrassed, but then notices a faint flush of color creeping up Percy’s neck. It curls into his cheeks, and Vex can see the flutter of his eyelashes as he struggles to look anywhere but at her. For some reason, his bashful nature emboldens her. Vex pushes herself to her feet, folding the letters into the palm of her hand as she does.

               “Not at all. I need to find something to wear anyway,” she says, and kicks her ruined clothing into a small pile. 

               “Yes,” Percy says shortly, and shifts out of the doorway as she approaches. Vex can’t stop the grin that tugs at her lips when he finally lifts his head only to turn it pointedly away from her. She pauses in the doorway and glances down at the bundle of clothes over his arm. The most notable article is a fine coat of heavy, navy twill with gold and royal blue brocaded accents… and gods, was that a fur lined collar? How ostentatious. 

               “That’ll suit you, I think,” Vex says, tilting her head to the side, coyly searching for his gaze. “Blue is your color,” she adds. Percy surprises her by turning to look at her.

               “Green is yours, I think,” he says calmly. If it weren’t for the blush in his cheeks Vex would have never guessed he was feeling anything other than calm and composed. It stuns her for a moment and the grin briefly vanishes from her lips before returning again.

               “You think so?” she asks conversationally, folding her arms.

               “Yes,” Percy answers, lifting his chin a little. His voice is half an octave higher than it was before. Vex is enjoying this too much, and realizes suddenly that she’s probably--definitely--making Percy uncomfortable. She leans away from him slightly.

               “Good to know,” she says and steps through the doorway to give Percy some space.  _ Quit playing games, _ she thinks, and scolds herself for being so brazen. They’d recently narrowly escaped death after all, Percy doesn’t need anything else troubling his thoughts. She meanders briefly around the main room of the armoire. It’s more brightly lit than the washroom, has a triple-folding full length mirror at the end, and is lined with racks and dressers of clothes. Everything is very… rich.

               Vex browses through the clothes like she’s leafing through the pages of a book, trying to find a passage that describes her aptly. She can’t help but feel like an imposter just  _ looking _ at all of this. More than once she pauses with her fingers trailing along a finely tailored gown. She marvels at them, but never takes one for herself. She thinks of the dress Victoria had worn that night in Syngorn--gods it feels like a lifetime ago now. She thinks of Saundor’s words, and her fingertips drag nervously through the loose locks of her hair. She considers the beautiful gowns… but a dress like that… it isn’t for her. She can’t pull it off, she’s sure. What was it Percival had said? Her lack of station was obvious? In the way she spoke, the way she moved and walked? There was no sense playing dress up in fancy clothes. Pike might give them to her, but they would never  _ belong _ to Vex.

               In the end, Vex finds her way to the end of the rack where a small cluster of more practical clothing has been sequestered away. She finds a shirt of dark forest green fabric. It isn’t fine or particularly beautiful, but it’s thick and warm, and Vex rather likes the ruffled pattern along the sleeves. This, she thinks, suits her much better than the green silk she’d abandoned back in Syngorn. Vex pulls on a pair of hide trousers, thick socks, fur-lined boots, and laments the loss of her backpack at the Hanged Man’s Feast. 

               Vex stands in front of the mirror and tucks her letters into the pocket of her pants. She pulls her hair over one shoulder and twists it deftly into a braid. Just as she’s tying off the end, a flicker of movement catches her eye in the mirror. Percy walks into the main room, looking down at himself and tugging at the cuffs of his shirt. He looks up at her and their eyes meet through the mirror.

               “What do you think?” he asks, spreading out his hands and walking to stand near her by the mirrors. He’s chosen pinstriped pants, a white shirt, a vest, a cravat, and that incredibly expensive looking coat. The ensemble actually goes together rather well, and makes him look quite dignified.

               “ _ Very _ noble,” Vex says truthfully. “I was right, blue is your color. It matches your eyes.” Percy thumbs at the collar of his coat, expression unreadable as his eyes dart over her choice of clothing. Very suddenly, Vex feels self conscious. Strange, she thinks, that her nerve fails her now when she’s fully clothed as opposed to before when she’d been wearing next to nothing.

               Without a word Percy turns away, and for some reason Vex feels her heart drop a fraction. Was he disapproving? She watches him skim a hand along the rack of clothing, and pull out a heavy-looking orange-ochre colored surcoat. He returns to her side and holds it up.

               “Here,” he says, and it’s clear that he wants her to put it on. A little frown creases Vex’s mouth, but she turns and slips her arms into the surcoat one after the other. It’s heavy and warm and decorated with expensive looking black and gold trim. It splits at her sides and back, making it easy to move in despite its weight. Vex picks at the fancy trim nervously. She likes it. 

               “What do you think?” she asks with a nervous inhale, and spins around. She hopes he can’t see the anxious trepidation in her grin. 

               “Appropriately fashionable and dignified,” Percy says, and that coaxes a laugh from Vex’s lips. Her anxiety vanishes with that laugh, and there’s a heartbeat where they share a simple silence, and smiles. 

               A flicker of gloom crosses Percy’s face, and Vex feels the moment pass. She tugs at her sleeves and folds her arms.

               “What are we going to tell the good Captain? Do you trust her? As a cleric of… Sarenrae?” Vex asks quietly, uncertainly. Vex’s instinct is to trust Pike, but she’s also woefully ignorant of how things operate in Stormhold. It would be good, she thinks, to have Percy’s opinion on the matter. Percy wets his lips, and his eyes glaze over in thought as he stares beyond her.

               “I do trust her. She hasn’t killed us, and she helped you with your arm. And I think… I think we should tell her everything except where I’m from,” he answers quietly, and then blinks, refocusing on Vex. She nods thoughtfully.

               “There are things I should tell you about how I found you again,” she says. Percy shifts ever so slightly and glances away for an instant.

               “I was meaning to ask you about that… and there are things I feel I ought to explain as well.” There’s the faintest waver in his voice, and Vex can almost see the memory of that obsidian blade in his eyes. A throb of sympathy pounds through her heart, and without thinking she touches his arm. It’s a gesture of comfort so small it almost feels insignificant, but it’s all she has to give. Percy looks down at her hand, eyes lingering on the irritated pink skin of the mostly-healed burns that curl around her fingertips.

               A muscle in his jaw clenches, his eyes dart from her hand to her face. His brow is furrowed. He doesn’t understand, doesn’t know what Yennen told her. Vex swallows and pulls her hand back, fingers curling, worried she’s overstepped some sort of boundary. Percy’s eyes are piercing and relentless, and Vex finds herself unable to look away. He’s searching for something, she thinks, and her instinct is to hide it but she doesn’t know what he’s hoping to find. Vex suspects that he isn’t sure himself. 

               Percy finally blinks and Vex lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

               “We should go talk to Pike,” she says, taking a deliberate step away from Percy. 

               “Yes,” Percy says, and there’s a lingering intensity to his voice that Vex can’t help but notice. He clears his throat. “Yes,” he repeats, and the smile returns to his lips, perhaps a little more weary than before. Vex turns away from him and walks quickly back toward the doors of the magical armoire. She gets almost halfway there before she hears Percy follow after her, and is vividly aware of his gaze on the back of her neck the entire time. Vex takes a deep breath and pushes back into Pike’s cabin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been feeling very off my A-game in terms of writing lately, but I really wanted to update today. No matter what else is happening, I am determined not to stop doing what I enjoy. May come back and tweak this chapter later. Nothing serious I'm sure, just nit-picky.
> 
> Hoping all you lovely readers are doing well in trying times. Continue to be beautiful, brave, and excellent.


	14. At Midmorning We Strategize!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy reveals his haunted past to Vex and Pike, and the three of them come up with a plan.

               Percival follows Vex’ahlia out of the armoire. He’s dreading telling her and Captain Trickfoot about the Briarwoods; about the fall of his family and their subsequent demise. He hasn’t spoken on that topic since… ever. But Vex’ahlia had risked life and limb for him, and if Captain Trickfoot meant to aid them she would surely be doing the same, they at least deserved to know the story.

               “You two look a little less bewildered--and much better dressed--now,” Captain Trickfoot says sweetly when he and Vex’ahlia stop in front of her desk again. The words fall just beyond his distant attention. He’s still looking at Vex’ahlia and trying to figure her out. Granted, he’s only known her a short while, but Percival finds her… surprising. He watches her pick at the trim of her surcoat. Her fingers are deft and trace the black and gold lace before moving to comb through the end of her braid.

               “Percy?” Vex’ahlia asks quietly, startling Percival out of his daze. He blinks and looks up at her, realizing too late that she and Pike have been exchanging words, probably idle pleasantries. Vex’ahlia’s hands quickly still, and she clasps them behind her back purposefully. A flicker of worry crosses her expression, though what she’s worried about specifically Percival cannot guess. Perhaps he’s simply staring too hard, too often. He hadn’t exactly been subtle in his scrutiny of her thus far. He’s spent years watching from the safety of the Astral Plane without having to worry about anyone being aware of his gaze. It’s difficult to remember now that the object of his attention is much more obvious.

               They’re waiting, Percival realizes. Waiting for him to say something. He’s been too busy with the distraction of puzzling over Vex’ahlia and her motivations. Much easier and more comfortable to think about that than the Briarwoods, or Ripley. Percival suppresses a shiver, gathering that telltale tremble up so that it manifests only as a tension in his shoulders. Vex’ahlia’s eyes flicker briefly toward that tension, did she notice his change in posture? Can she tell that his stomach is currently churning? Her dark eyes are keen. Not intrusive, but searching and unyielding, and Percival feels he cannot adequately guard against them.

               “Would you like to sit?” Captain Trickfoot offers in the silence. Vex’ahlia glances toward the captain as she speaks, and affords Percival the chance to move out from underneath her stare. He walks around the captain’s desk, away from both women, and peers out of the glass windows along the back of the cabin.

               “No,” he says, and props up an elbow against the window frame so that he can rest his head on his forearm. His fingers twitch restlessly as he wrestles with himself. He’s spent years trying to forget about the Briarwoods and Ripley. Granted, he’s never been successful in forgetting, and often they occupied the forefront of his thoughts. But actively seeking and sharing those memories is an action in direct opposition to years of self-conditioning. Percival finds he can barely open his mouth let alone force words out of it.

               “I could start with--” Vex’ahlia offers, but Percival cuts her off.

               “No. Thank you, but no. It would be simpler just to start from the beginning.” Percival takes a breath. “There are people who want me dead,” he says, glancing at Captain Trickfoot. Her eyebrows raise a little, but she doesn’t seem too surprised. A reasonable reaction given the state she’d found Vex’ahlia and himself in. “Quite a few actually. Chief among them are Sylas and Delilah Briarwood, and one Doctor Anna Ripley.”

               Vex’ahlia perches herself on the end of the captain’s desk, hands folded in her lap. Her eyes are bright and alert, and Percival can see her thinking as he speaks. He turns to look out over the expanse of Stormhold before continuing.

               “When I was young, my family… had something that the Briarwoods wanted. My mother and father weren’t keen on giving it up, so the Briarwoods killed them and took it. Only the murder of my parents wasn’t enough for them, so they exterminated my brothers and sisters as well. I was the only one to escape the slaughter…” Percival trails off as his lungs freeze up. Suddenly the air is cold, and the room is dark. He can feel the sharp, frigid wind burning against his skin. He can feel Cassandra’s hand in his own, fingers twisted together so tight it hurts, but not as much as the anguish and fear hurts.

               Percival blinks rapidly, dragging himself back to the sunny view of Stormhold. He risks a glance at the reflections of Captain Trickfoot and Vex’ahlia in the window. He can’t see much of their expressions through a thin haze of unspilled tears. He wills them away, and pushes forward. Technically he hasn’t lied yet, except by vague explanation and perhaps omission.

               “They have been hunting me ever since. I managed to evade the Briarwoods and Ripley for a time, but they’ve found me again. Vex’ahlia saved me from one of their traps--”

               “Ripley’s,” Vex’ahlia interjects, but bites off the name like she realized she was interrupting halfway through saying it. Percival glances over at her curiously and she presses her lips together apologetically. “I was just thinking about what Sylas said, about you bringing back what--sorry, I can talk about that later. Go on,” she says haltingly, glancing down at her hands.

               “We parted ways shortly after,” Percival says, looking to Captain Trickfoot now. The gnome is listening with a thoughtful expression, her brow is slightly furrowed and her lips slightly pursed. “I encountered an Ashari named Keyleth. Together we planned to get me out of the Briarwoods reach, but we fell rather clumsily into another trap. I was Charmed by Delilah, and very nearly slain by her. It fell to Vex’ahlia, yet again, to spring me to freedom.” Percival gestures to Vex’ahlia, indicating her turn to speak. She glances between him and Pike.

               “I was on my way home after leaving Percy,” Vex’ahlia explains. “But one of his friends, Yennen, got a message to me, saying that Percy was headed toward trouble. Yennen said he would’ve spoken directly to you, Percy, but something was blocking him.”

               Yennen? Percival folds his arms and leans his back against the window. He’s a fellow Star, one adjacent to the former Whitestone constellation. Percival hasn’t spoken to him since… well, since before the fall of Whitestone. And what was this about not being able to Message Percival directly? Something must’ve been blocking the spell. The Briarwoods perhaps? They were certainly powerful enough to block a Message spell. Or maybe it was something else… Percival spares another glance out the window again. This time he looks up. Even in broad daylight he can feel the faintest sliver of shadow above him. Watching. Waiting. Percival can feel Vex’ahlia’s eyes on him, and looks back to her. She has her good hand pressed absently over her chest with her index finger tapping near her collarbone.She stares pointedly at Percival’s chest, and then drops her hand. _Ah, the pendant._ The cold black jewel is pressed flush against his skin underneath his shirt and cravat. Curious… and clever of her to think of it. Percival hadn’t given the trinket much thought, mostly due to lack of time. He would have to remedy that soon.

               “So I jumped on a carriage--Ripley’s carriage--” Percival is startled out of his musings by this piece of information, and makes a small noise of alarm. “I didn’t know who she was, only that she was headed where I needed to go,” Vex’ahlia clarifies quickly.

               “What did she say to you?” Percival asks, and only just manages to keep himself from saying ‘what did she _do_ to you?’ instead. A lattice of old fears flare up at the thought of anyone at the mercy of Anna Ripley. The memory of her is branded into his mind as surely as it is branded into his flesh. If nothing else, Ripley was good at making an impression.

               “Very little except to introduce herself, and give me a few… commands.” The distaste on Vex’ahlia’s face is clear, but passes as she continues to speak. “Actually it worked out okay. She sent me to stable the horses and I found a young woman there who turned out to be surprisingly keen on helping me find you. I’m actually not sure of her name, I didn’t have time to ask. Percy, was Keyleth the red-haired one with the fire?”

               “Yes, that was Keyleth,” Percival responds, tilting his head curiously. Yet another mystery woman had appeared to aid him, it seemed. Probably some poor servant of the Briarwoods. Although… a servant of the Briarwoods being eager to help Vex’ahlia was definitely strange. “What did she look like?” Percival asks slowly, a light frown knitting his features together.

               “Uh,” Vex’ahlia hesitates. She gestures helplessly at her own face, trying to find the right descriptive words. “A little younger than me, but her hair was already turning white. Um… I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying too much attention. She told me to hurry and help you. Knew your description as soon as I gave it to her.” A dreadful chill enters Percival’s heart, and he shoulders off of the window. _Could it be possible that…? No, how could she have survived?_ “There was some sort of silver chain around her ankle…” Vex’ahlia trails off gloomily. She hugs her sides and glances off shamefully. “...I told her I’d go back for her,” she says quietly.

               “Captain Trickfoot,” Percival prompts, and his voice is hoarse and hollow, “Could I trouble you for some paper and a pencil?” The gnome casts about her desk and retrieves a charcoal pencil and a scrap piece of parchment. He is blind to the concern and curiosity on her face, and deaf to Vex’ahlia’s words as she continues. He hears keywords like ‘Gate Candle’ and ‘escape’ and ‘destination’, but he’s not really listening to any of it. He knows that part of the story anyway.

               Percival is focused intensely on the parchment. He uses the charcoal pencil to sketch with quick, angry strokes. He feels less like he is creating an image, and more like he’s tracing it. The lines of Cassandra’s face are scarred into the back of his retinas; the ghost of her image seared into his mind's eye by the burn-out of an uncontained Star. The painful, haunting memory is projected through his eyes and onto the paper so that he need only outline it in charcoal for the others to see.

               Percival slows as the rough sketch comes together. His hands are shaking visibly, so he drops the pencil and grips the edge of the desk. Cassandra’s image stares accusingly at him from the paper. He can’t bring himself to look up at Vex’ahlia or to draw her attention to his work. He doesn’t know if it would be better for Vex’ahlia not to recognize the image, and crush this tremulous flicker of horrified hope in his heart. Or for her to find familiarity in Cassandra’s face, and confirm this horrible sneaking truth that Percival’s sister is somehow alive… and he had abandoned her. Percival’s breathing is shallow and quick and each little gasp is not nearly enough to fill his lungs. He feels like he’s suffocating.

               Before Percival can collect himself, before he can notice Vex’ahlia leaning over the desk to look at his work, before he can say anything she’s speaking.

               “That's--”

               “My sister. Cassandra,” he cuts in sharply before she can say anything else. He isn’t ready to know yet. He looks up at Vex’ahlia, caught in this horrible limbo. There’s a look of pained sympathy on her face. She quietly closes her mouth, and Percival can see understanding in her eyes. She has a brother, Percival remembers. She has a brother and she’s imagining what it would be like to lose him. What it would be like to unwittingly leave him behind to some terrible fate only to discover her mistake later. So she waits to speak. She holds Percival’s gaze until he lets out a long shaking breath and gives the barest nod of assent.

               “That’s her, Percy. The girl in the stables,” she says quietly, and Percival drops his head like he’s bracing for a blow. But the revelation doesn’t feel exactly like he imagined it would. The guilt of leaving Cassandra behind has been with him since that fateful night. But instead of it overwhelming him with renewed vigor, there’s a strange… relief. A terrible hope. He hadn’t been able to save her before, but maybe he could do it now.

               “Well that… changes things,” Percival says, and is surprised by the lightness of his tone. He takes a deep breath and stands upright. He looks at Captain Trickfoot, who is regarding him with a gentle, thoughtful expression.

               “You’re not running away anymore, then?” Vex’ahlia asks, though her tone suggests she already knows the answer.

               “I’m not,” Percival confirms, and surprisingly he feels as confident as he sounds. Vex’ahlia takes a long breath and pushes off of the desk and back onto her feet.

               “Alright. So how do we rescue your sister?” she asks, and Percival is struck again by her words. How do _we_ rescue your sister? _We._ His eyes flicker to the fine trim on her surcoat: a noble’s article of clothing, and poor payment for her rescuing him from his magical prison. His attention flits to her half-healed hand, her lightly scarred fingers toying with the end of her braid: an even worse reward for aiding him. Surely she’s sensed the pattern by now. She must know that whatever he plans on doing, joining him in the endeavor will not lead to any place that benefits her.

               “You don’t have to involve yourself in this,” he says, a frown on his face. He can tell immediately by her reaction that she has every intention of being involved, of staying involved. For the life of him he can’t imagine _why._

               “I’m _so_ involved in this,” Vex’ahlia says emphatically, and the force and earnesty in her voice makes Percival’s throat close up. “Besides, I promised I’d go back for her,” she adds lightly, and shrugs like it’s nothing. Percival glances away, blinking rapidly to clear watering eyes. He doesn’t know how to fill the silence that follows. A ‘thank you’ seems vastly insufficient.

               “Well… this all sounds very exciting,” Captain Trickfoot says, occupying the quiet so Percival doesn’t have to. “It’s not every day we get second chances like this,” and she thumbs at her holy symbol as she speaks. A small smile tugs at the edges of Percival’s lips as he remembers Sarenrae is the goddess of redemption; of second chances. “So what’s the plan? Where are you going?” she asks, and looks to Vex’ahlia who in turn looks to Percival. His fingers twitch and he thinks quietly for a moment.

               Percival still needs to send a Message to his contact on the Astral Plane… but for different reasons now. It’ll just be something to buy a little time, because he’ll be damned before he lets Cassandra return to the Astral Plane the same way he bartered his way back home. They’ll have to speak to the Pyrah for a Gate Candle to solve that problem. But all of that is assuming they can rescue Cassandra in the first place. He at least has an idea of where she and the Briarwoods might be.

               “We need supplies first. We need a marketplace, and eventually we’ll head up into the mountains northeast of Westruun. I think that’s where the Briarwoods will be.” Percival says. Pike nods her head.

               “We’re slated to head for Westruun anyway. We have a shipment of lightning due there in a little under two weeks. We’ll be storm-chasing all the way there. If you two lend a hand on The Broken Howl, I’d be happy to drop you off in the city with a cut of our earnings,” Pike offers. Vex’ahlia perks up at that.

               “That would be great, because I lost all of my money when we had to run from the inn,” she says. A hollow regret rings in her words, and she speaks through a grim smile. Percival suppresses a wince. It’s one more thing he’s cost her, but she doesn’t seem to blame him for it. In fact she glances toward him, looking almost embarrassed that she’d even brought it up. She clears her throat softly and her chin lifts a little higher as she puts on a carefree smile. Percival almost can’t tell that it’s forced.

               “Okay!” Captain Trickfoot says, and beams at them. “You can take the day to just… relax. It sounds like you’ve had a rough time lately. So tomorrow, Scanlan can show you the ropes and where you can help on the ship when we reach a storm.”

               “Do you mind if we explore the ship?” Vex’ahlia asks, and Percival finds himself somewhat relieved to hear an edge of cheerfulness and excitement in her words. She isn’t too hung up on the lost coin, apparently.

               “Not at all,” the captain says, white teeth gleaming. “Feel free to wander on your own, or I could give you a tour if you like! Just be careful not to mess with the power crystals that keep us in the air.” Vex nods, an intense curiosity gleaming in her eye. Percival exhales gently, glad to have a day to catch his breath and reflect. He has a lot to think about: Cassandra and the plan to rescue her, the strange obsidian necklace that had knocked him out of the sky, what he was going to say in his Message. He needed silence and solitude.

               “Thank you, Captain,” he says, voice gaining a more formal edge. He bows a little at the waist. “I think I’d like the afternoon to myself. I have a lot to contemplate,” he says. Captain Trickfoot gestures with her hand toward the door.

               “By all means! We can speak more later,” she says brightly.

               “We ought to, especially as we draw nearer to Westruun,” Percival confirms. He turns, “Vex’ahlia,” he says with a nod and another slight bow before taking his leave. He can feel her eyes on the back of his neck as he walks toward the door. As he pushes it open and steps beyond the threshold, her presence fades and he hears her say,

               “So Pike… about that tour?” before the door swings shut behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At dawn... WE PLAN! Except it's a bit beyond dawn. Percival is off to BROOD as usual.
> 
> EDIT: I'm coming up to the end of my semester so things are CRAZY. There will be maybe one or two updates before the end of 2016 just because I'm going to be so busy! Sorry folks!


	15. The Musical Suspects

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why yes, it is who you think it is! Vex meets some of the crew of The Broken Howl.

 

               It takes quite a large amount of restraint for Vex not to follow immediately after Percy. She wants to talk-- _ needs to talk-- _ about what’s going on. She has questions she will not ask because the fulfillment of idle curiosity about Anna Ripley cannot justify the pain and fear her name brings to Percival’s eyes. But there are things she wants to ask about the pendant hanging like a noose around his neck. Sylas had mentioned Ripley had stolen  it and  then used it to drag Percy from the Astral Plane. Sylas had also mentioned an accelerated timeline… but for what, exactly? Had the Briarwoods always planned to snatch Percy from his perch in the heavens, but not quite as soon? And why would Ripley want to break away from the Briarwoods and catch Percy for herself?

               In fact, Vex hasn’t the faintest idea of why everyone is so damn interested in Percy in the first place. Every time he says ‘Star’ she can hear the capital ‘S’ in the word. She can tell it’s Important, but has no idea why. What’s so valuable about a Star? Why capture or kill one? Vex’ahlia thinks of the many hours she's spent on her rooftop looking up at the night sky. Those gleaming, burning pools of light have always provided her some measure  of comfort. Looking up at that distant world, she would think to herself that freedom and hope existed untouched by the high walls of city and society. A silent but ever-present reassurance that burned just beyond the grasp of her fingertips. What sort of boon would tempt anyone to destroy such a thing?

               Vex realizes, with a touch of embarrassment, that it’s unlikely many people have such a romanticized view of the sky. She reminds herself that Percy is, in fact, a person and not an inanimate object. While her star-struck notions may be solid grounds to disagree with the destruction of a star, it’s basic decency that protests the destruction of a life. It doesn’t matter why the Briarwoods want to kill Percy, it’s wrong regardless of their motives and Vex will do what she can to stop them… but that doesn’t satiate her curiosity.

               Of course these questions will have to wait, even if they burn so intensely in her mind that it causes an almost physical pain. Certainly it must be nothing compared to the discomfort of reliving the story of the slaughter of your family, and the realization that one of them has been prisoner to a pair of murderers. Vex decides Percy has more than earned a moment alone to himself. For now she can occupy her thoughts with questions about how Pike’s ship  _ flies. _

               The good captain gives quite a tour. Vex trails after her down the corridors and soaks up as much information as she can while munching on some food Pike had been gracious enough to procure for her. Vex constructs a mental layout of the ship, listens with interest as Pike explains how it’s insulated and built to channel, collect, and store lightning. The little white-haired gnome speaks about the rubber gloves and aprons her crew wears while working, and gives a brief explanation of grounding. Some of what Pike talks about makes sense and strikes chords of familiarity with the schooling Vex received when she was younger. Other things seem entirely impossible, and completely contrary to the known laws of the world. One of those things is Pike’s description of captured and stored lightning.

               “The whole ship is built to direct the lightning to certain points where the bolts can be caught, captured and stored. It gets put into these containers, and then we sell it for gold,” Pike explains, thumping a metal-and-rubber-reinforced crate with her hand. The wood of the crate is smooth and looks almost like stone. The edges are lined with a dark rubbery substance, and bound together with a coppery metal that’s uniformly stamped with runes. 

               “You keep lightning… in a box,” Vex states, not unkindly, but with skepticism. Pike looks up at her with a wide smile and bright eyes.

               “Yes!” she answers, so open and honest and laced with a tone of ‘of course, where else would we put it?’ that Vex can’t help but laugh.

               “I just… never thought you could do that with lightning. It always seemed like something that would just,” Vex makes a gesture with her hands and a fizzling noise, “dissipate.” Pike laughs.

               “Well it does, which is why we have to store it properly. If you can wrangle it into the proper container, you can preserve it and then put it to use. If I were to smash this box to pieces, the lightning inside would…” Pike mimics Vex’s hand gesture and fizzling noise. Vex chuckles.

               “Well alright,” she says, and takes a cautionary step away from the box, “I won’t smash any boxes then.”

“Thanks,” Pike says cheerfully.

               “No problem,” Vex says, and winks. “Wouldn’t want to burn your ship from the inside… out…” Vex trails off, and the focus of her gaze drifts to a distant horizon. A small unexpected thought steals her attention, and escapes her lips as a small ‘oh!’ without intention.

               At Pike’s inquisitive, raised-brow stare, Vex shakes her head and smiles.

               “Sorry. Something just occurred to me, carry on,” she explains. Pike returns the smile and shrugs,

               “Not much else to carry on about,” she says, “That’s the end of the grand tour really. I could introduce you to some of the crew if you like.”

               “If you mean the giant and his comically small compatriot, then yes absolutely,” Vex says, clapping her hands together with enthusiasm. Pike smiles and nods,

               “That’s Grog and Scanlan. They’ll be up on deck loafing around at this hour I imagine, c’mon.” Vex follows Pike back through the halls of the Broken Howl, falling into stride beside Pike with surprising ease. The gnome has an almost skipping gait that ensures she can move quickly despite her short legs. It also jostles her plated coat and creates a noise reminiscent of coins tumbling in a purse.

               The hours of afternoon have tumbled into the first moments of evening when Vex sets foot onto the deck. The sun is starting to fall and the sky is already beginning to change color. Briefly, Vex wonders where Percy has gotten himself to. She glances around the deck, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Perhaps, Vex thinks with a compulsive smile, he will emerge once nighttime settles. After all, stars don’t appear until it gets dark, and there’s still a few hours of light left.

               While Vex’s cursory glance doesn’t reveal Percival’s location, she does spot Grog and Scanlan with ease. As Pike predicted, they’re both lazing near the bow of the ship. Scanlan is seated with his back against the sturdy wooden railing. Grog is standing across from him, massive arms folded over his heavily scarred chest. Scanlan’s head is tilted back and he’s balancing a strange instrument on his lips. Each puff of his breath sends a faint wheezing tune through the silver instrument and into the air. 

               “It sounds like dying,” Grog says as the instrument emits another faint metallic wheeze.

               “Does it?” Scanlan asks, somehow managing to hold the little silver rectangle in his mouth and speak at the same time. It makes his words muffled, and joins them with a discordant chorus of more metallic wheezing. Grog, Pike, and Vex all cringe.

               “Is it supposed to sound like that?” Vex asks. Scanlan gives a start and almost chokes on the instrument. He coughs, which creates a piercingly shrill and unpleasant noise, inhales once, and then spits it out of his mouth and into his hand.

               “Oh hello,” he says brightly, turning to face Pike and Vex. He hops to his feet immediately and flashes a broad, charming smile. The confidence and bravado in his voice after such an embarrassing moment is impressive. 

               “Hi, Scanlan,” Pike answers, trying not to smile too broadly at his earlier fumble. He rubs at his neck a little, either embarrassed or in pain. Perhaps both.

               “You alright?” Vex asks.

               “Me? Oh I’m fine. It’s not the first thing I’ve had unexpectedly down my--” he stops, grinning as Pike rolls her eyes, “--well you don’t need that detail do you? I’m alright.”

               “Vex, this is Scanlan, and this is Grog. You two, this is Vex,” Pike introduces briefly. “She’s a traveling companion of my nephew. She’ll be flying with us until we reach Westruun.”

               “Welcome aboard!” Scanlan says, and gives a sharp salute. “Scanlan Shorthalt, musician, composer, jack-of-all-trades, lover, at your service.” He waggles his eyebrows at Vex  who raises her brows and can’t help but smile. She looks over to Grog who gives her a comically large smile--somewhat less garish than the one he had given her previously--and waves a big meaty hand at her.

               “Grog, muscle,” he introduces proudly.

               “I can see that,” Vex remarks. Grog’s smile becomes knowing and smug. 

               “Grog and I have been kicking around together for years. He’s my first mate,” Pike says, and the pair exchange a radiant, beaming look that warms Vex just to witness.

               “I’m first mate of your heart though, right?” Scanlan asks her, eyebrows performing an impressive and synchronized wave.

               “Sure!” Pike says after a moment of hesitation and restraint.

               “Alright,” Scanlan says, placated. The interaction is… unusual. Vex isn’t quite sure what to make of it at first. Scanlan openly adores Pike, that much is clear. Pike seems to take his flattery in stride, neither encouraging nor clearly discouraging it. She herself doesn’t seem certain what to do about it. Scanlan doesn’t seem to mind her inability to take a clear stand for or against his advances. He appears content to wait for her approval or disapproval, happy to continue showering her with affection in the meantime. Having known both of them for only a short amount of time, it’s impossible for Vex to know if this is some sort of running joke between them.

               Scanlan sits back down and raises his silver instrument once more to inspect it. He wipes a line of spittle off of it with his sleeve. He looks back up at Vex and waves it at her.

               “Also yes, it always sounds like a sad metal accordion. But sometimes that’s what you want for a song!” He lifts the instrument to his lips once more, and this times plays a quick melody with swift, intentional notes. The individual noises remain that sad, strange sort of wheezing, but together they form something of a more cheerful tune. 

               “That’s… unusual. But better than I expected,” Vex admits. Scanlan bows deeply at the waist. 

               “I like the other one,” Grog declares. Scanlan lifts his head, purple hat flopping comically as he cranes his neck to look up at his companion.

               “Which is that?” he asks.

               “The other noisemaker like that one,” Grog answers weakly. 

               “Grog, I have several instruments on my person at any given time, but your exceptionally descriptive explanation has allowed me to deduce that you mean--” with a flourish he straightens from his bow and shakes another instrument from his sleeve and into his free hand, “--this one?” He puts it to his mouth and blows. This one makes a noise akin to what Vex imagines a beehive might sound like if it was shoved into some sort of horn. It is an angry, humming ‘doot’. She and Pike wince.

               “Yes that one,” Grog confirms. “Always plays the same note. It’s easy to remember.” Scanlan reaches up to him, holding out the new device, carved from wood but painted bright yellow.

               “Here then, you play this one and I’ll keep mine. We’ll be a band together!” he says, and his grin suggests he knows exactly how terrible of an idea that is.

               “I have some things to attend to,” Pike says abruptly.

               “You don’t want to listen, Pikey?” Scanlan asks, aghast. Grog takes the instrument delicately between his thumb and forefinger.

               “Captain Trickfoot, to you,” she corrects sternly, but her lips twitch upward as she suppresses a smile. “And I would, but I have Captain things to do. Why don’t you two practice and you can show me later.”

               “Good idea,” Grog says, putting the instrument to his lips. Pike turns on her heel and leaves. She makes it halfway across the deck before Groz exhales into the mouthpiece with enormous force. All work on The Broken Howl ceases for a moment in the wake of Grog’s rather impressive ‘DOOT’ noise. Then the general clamor and hubbub resumes. Vex has one hand clamped over her mouth and the other wrapped around her stomach, failing spectacularly at containing her fit of giggles. 

               “I thought that was alright,” Scanlan states demurely, looking up at Vex. She nods at him, composing herself and wiping the tears from her eyes.

               “I thought so too,” she agrees.

               “Not running off with Captain Trickfoot, then?” Scanlan asks, gesturing after the white-haired gnome as she takes up a position near the helm.

               “I’m not captain,” Vex says with a shrug, “I’ve got no captain-ey things to do.”

               “Good, then I’m recruiting you for my band,” he declares, sitting back down on the deck, and pulling out a pan flute from his sleeve. Vex eyes his shirt critically, wondering if the poofy sleeves are a stylistic choice, or a practical one that makes it so he can hide a multitude of instruments in them.

               “I’m afraid I don’t have any musical talent,” Vex admits, folding her arms.

               “Do you have any talent putting things in your mouth and blowing?” he asks. Vex slowly raises her brows at him, and briefly imagines swinging a leg in his direction to punt him overboard like a kickball. Her crossed arms tighten a little, and she raises her chin somewhat to stare down her nose at him.

               “He’s talking about instruments,” Grog says emphatically. His tone suggests that even if Scanlan hadn’t been talking about instruments, he better change his tune and pretend or else Grog might do Vex’s job and kick the little gnome overboard. Vex actually finds herself surprised that the duplicity of Scanlan’s question didn’t go right over Grog’s head. His apparent simplicity is, at least somewhat, deceiving. Scanlan laughs, not a trace of nervousness in the sound, but he makes an apologetic gesture to Vex.

               “Sorry, I probably don’t know you well enough to joke like that yet. Fortunately for both of us, I am good at blowing things for myself,” he says with a chuckle and pats the deck next to him. “Want to learn how to play something? It’s a good way to pass the time between storms.” Vex looks down at him, still a little put off. He smiles at her, teeth bright, expression charming, eyes earnest. It isn’t until Grog gives his instrument another, equally obnoxious ‘DOOT!’ that Vex finally cracks a grin and relents. There is something refreshing about their openness. They speak frankly, and their veiled comments are harmless, if not openly suggestive, jokes. It’s nothing like the conversation game Vex is so used to playing back in Syngorn. It’s… it’s a relief actually. She hadn’t expected an apology from Scanlan, and the fact that he so quickly and willingly gave one was… she doesn’t know what it was, but she liked it. Vex sits down next to Scanlan.

               “I’ll try the pan flutes,” she says, and he hands them over. “Do you have a favorite of them all? What do you blow the most?” Vex asks, a sly grin on her lips. Scanlan chuckles,

               “Hot air mostly,” he admits. Vex smiles, inspecting the pan flutes instead of looking at him. 

               “Good to know,” she answers. “Now teach me how to play this thing. I’ve gotta catch up to Grog’s level of mastery if I have any hope of being part of your band.” Both Vex and Scanlan look up at Grog as he sits down on the deck across from them with a  _ thump. _ Even seated, he’s much taller than them both. He is gnawing lightly on it with an absent expression on his face. When he notices Scanlan and Vex’s gaze, he gives a little smile and a marginally less obnoxious ‘doot!’.


	16. A Night Beneath the Stars and Beside One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vex and Percy have their first night of calm after a series of harrowing events.

               Vex spends the rest of the afternoon playing a very rudimentary tune on the pan flutes. She hadn’t been lying when she told Scanlan she had no musical talent to speak of. Still, that doesn’t stop him from cheerfully teaching her the basics and helping her struggle along all of the notes. When darkness starts to fall in earnest, and the supper bell rings, Grog and Scanlan retire to the mess hall. Vex waves away their invitations, not particularly hungry after her late lunch. She returns the pan flute to Scanlan and smiles as a retreating Grog gives his instrument a gentle ‘doot’ with every step.

               “You’re not half bad you know,” Scanlan says, tucking away his instruments.

               “That’s a lie,” Vex answers with a laugh, “but thanks.”

               “Nonsense, you’re just as good as Grog,” Scanlan says, and winks at her before skipping off after the goliath. Vex exhales a short laugh and turns back to the bow of the ship. After several hours of poor music, crude jokes, and laughing, the silence strikes Vex strangely. She leans her forearms on the railing of The Broken Howl and turns her face to the wind.

               It had been so easy to sit with Grog and Scanlan. In all her life, Vex had only found such easy camaraderie with her brother. Given her interactions with every other resident in Syngorn, Vex had never expected to find that welcoming kinship with anyone else. Yet here, on a flying ship, she had found three souls who not only accepted her, but who did it without thought. There were no thinly veiled insults that had to go unrebuked for the sake of manners. No strict measure of pomp and circumstance. And Vex didn’t have to do anything to earn their kindness really, only show a little of her own in return. To think, the chance for this had been across the Wall the entire time. Another world on her doorstep, more dangerous than her own, but also, in Vex’s mind, significantly improved in every possible way.

               Vex closes her eyes because the wind is making them water. She pulls away from the railing, flicking away wind-strewn tears and then wrapping her arms around herself. She looks up as the night sky shakes off the last vestiges of daytime, and the stars start to wink to life. There’s a gentle cloud cover: some thin wisps way up high, and a few fluffier ones that sometimes brush by The Broken Howl. Vex inhales deeply. The air is cold, but bracing, and she is well guarded against it by her new garb. She picks absently at the trim of her surcoat, eyes darting between the shining beacons she have become so familiar to her. They are the same stars she sees at home in Syngorn.

               Vex wonders if they are all Stars with a capital ‘S’. Do they ever look down at the Material Plane? Percy had said he sometimes did. In all her time spent looking up at them, had any of them deigned to look down upon her? What are the chances one of them is looking now? She’s up on an airship, high above the ground, closer to the stars than she’s ever been in her entire life. Would that bring her more sharply into focus for a gazing Star? There’s a tickle at the back of Vex’s neck. She glances over her shoulder at the empty deck, and shakes off the feeling with a shiver.

               Vex’s eyes land briefly on the large middle post of the airship. The craft is propelled by magic crystals and therefore doesn’t need a mast and sails, but two masts are still affixed to the deck. Pike had explained that they attract lightning, and help channel it. Metal netting dangles from it, limp and swaying slightly in the wind. Rope rigging attaches the top to the side of the ship, and on an impulse Vex heads for it.

               Without thinking, Vex grabs the rope and starts to haul herself upward. Hand over hand she pulls herself closer to the sky. Halfway to the crow's nest at the top of the mast, Vex looks down. Instinctively her grip on the rope tightens, but the fear she half expected never shows its face. Instead an elated smile slowly dawns on her expression. She can see a vast plain below, the foothills of a terrain that slowly becomes more rocky, the silver line of a river that carves across the land like a gilded scar. The wind picks up a little, and gusts into her face, cold enough to burn her skin. It steals away the warm air from her lungs, but Vex does not give it away without a fight. She surrenders her breath as an exhilarated laugh, and releases one hand from the ropes so that she can hang out over the open air. She splays her palm to the cold, feeling the current of the wind cut between each finger. This must be what birds feel like, Vex thinks to herself. This is what it feels like to be free.

               “Vex’ahlia, what the Hels are you doing!?” Percival’s voice snaps Vex from her reverie. She snares herself back close to the rigging, both hands securely on the ropes, heart hammering a thousand beats a minute. She’s trembling with adrenaline, and sudden exhaustion creeps into her muscles as a gentle ache. Vex takes a steadying breath, and then looks up. Percival is hanging over the edge of the crow’s nest staring at her and looking rather alarmed. His white hair is whipping around his face like white fire in the wind. It is a sharply contrasting frame for his face against the deep navy sky. He has one hand holding onto his golden spectacles, and the other is white-knuckled on the ledge.

               “What did it look like I was doing?” Vex calls up, grinning at him.

               “Tempting death! Climb the rest of the way up!” Percy commands. Part of Vex bristles, but there’s such earnest worry in his voice that she laughs and does just that. When she climbs over the top, he takes her arm as though to steady her and be sure she won’t suddenly pitch overboard. Vex looks at him, brows raised, steady on her feet. Percy blinks, holding her gaze for a heartbeat before abruptly letting go.

               “Feel better?” Vex asks. Percy folds his arms and shifts uncomfortably. The crow's nest is small, not built for two, and puts them in close quarters. They’re almost nose to nose, close enough so that Vex can almost read the thoughts passing behind Percival’s spectacles.

               “Not really, no,” he says. “What were you thinking? What if you had fallen?”

               “I would have grown wings,” Vex answers immediately, spreading her arms out dramatically. Her heart is still hanging off of the rigging, breathing in the cold night wind, high on adrenaline and freedom.

               “You only have one feather, not nearly enough to fly,” Percy answers, the hint of a smile creeping onto his lips. He moves as if to gesture to the feather tucked safely behind her ear, but the motion is strangely aborted, like he had meant to make certain it was secure before catching himself midway.

               “You’re right,” Vex says, brushing a few strands of hair from her face. “How many would I need, do you think? You’re a learned type aren’t you? Would three suffice?”

               Percy laughs. Vex blinks in surprise because the noise is so unguarded and unexpected.

               Percy shakes his head and looks away for a moment, and then down at his feet. He shakes his head again, but Vex can see the crinkle around his eyes that indicates a smile, even if their proximity means she cannot see it on his mouth.

               “Yes,” he says, “I think three would be enough.”

               “Alright, I promise no more adventures until I have at least two more feathers,” Vex says seriously.

               “Good,” Percy replies, thumbing at his nose and sniffing a little. It’s pink with the cold. “Sit down, it’s a little warmer out of the wind,” he says, and carefully seats himself in the crow’s nest. Vex hesitates a moment, and then follows his lead.

               If there was little room to stand together, there is almost no room to sit together. Vex and Percy are pressed shoulder to shoulder, and fumble a little with where to put their legs before folding them awkwardly to opposite sides. Percy puts his hands in his pockets and wraps his coat around him a little tighter. Vex folds her fingers in her lap and taps her thumbs together lightly.

               “So what were you doing up here?” she asks and shoots him a sideways glance.

               “Thinking,” he answers quietly. Vex nods and does not press him about what he had been thinking about. Nothing pleasant, she is certain. In the silence, they both look up, heads resting against the wooden ledge, necks craned so that they can look at the stars. Vex and Percy share a silence, and then sigh simultaneously. Like a mirror, they both glance toward each other, grin, and then look back up at the sky. Their smiles fade.

               “Are you homesick?” Vex asks quietly.

               “Yes,” Percy answers. There’s a strangeness to his voice, and when Vex steals a careful look from the corner of her eye, there’s a distance in his expression. He doesn’t just miss home. He misses his family. Maybe it’s the same thing. Vex feels a terrible emptiness gnaw at her soul. She touches the feather in her hair, and then thumbs the outline of the letters in her pocket. She misses her home in Syngorn, but only because it’s where both she and Vax had always retreated to be safe. Where is he now, she wonders? Still on his mysterious task probably. It hasn’t even been a week since he had set off. Vex clenches her jaw, hoping with all of her heart that his adventure over the Wall is much more mundane than hers.

               “Me too,” Vex murmurs. She stares up at the stars and after a moment she notices Percy has turned to look at her. She can feel his eyes trace the outline of her face, but she does not look over. She stares determinedly at the sky, suddenly acutely aware of the warmth of his body pressed against hers. That searching intensity is back in his gaze, and Vex knows if she looks she won’t be able to escape it.

               “Why are you doing this?” Percy asks. Vex starts slightly, and looks over at him in surprise. She frowns, leaning back a little to try and study him more clearly. He’s staring at her, the lines of his face are all drawn together in scrutiny. It is a harsh expression, calculating, discerning… but also curious, earnest, almost desperate to understand.

               “What do you mean?” she asks.

               “I mean Keyleth is an Ashari. It is the job of her people to guard the balance and peace between the different Planes and their inhabitants. Captain Trickfoot is a cleric of Sarenrae, her patron is one of redemption and grants power to mend that which is broken, and restore what has been lost. Both of them have reason to aid me. But what are you?” Percy asks.

               Vex suddenly realizes that she is an oddity to him. An inscrutable puzzle in the eyes of a man very accustomed to instinctively knowing how things tick. It is a strange realization, given that Vex doesn’t feel like she has much to hide at all. And if she did, she feels she has no defense adequate to guard against Percival’s piercing stare. He has already proven that he can see a great many things about her with ease. He is going to be ardently disappointed, Vex thinks, when he realizes that the puzzle he has been trying to unravel has no hidden secrets after all. The thought leaves Vex feeling empty and inadequate. She lifts her chin a little, but cannot think of a reply.

               “Helping me has actively caused you pain and misfortune. You could leave. You could get off this ship at Westruun and return home to safety,” Percy continues when she doesn’t. Vex wants to look away, but as she predicted, she cannot escape Percival’s stare. She tugs at her sleeves, and then twists her braid between her fingertips. Percy says nothing, so Vex fills the silence with a laugh. It’s a nervous sound, short and uncertain.

               “What, and leave you to fend off the Briarwoods yourself?” she asks.

               “Yes,” Percy states.

               “Leave you to face Anna Ripley alone?” Vex continues.

               “Yes.”

               “Leave you to rescue your sister without any backup?” Vex presses, becoming less apprehensive and more incredulous.

               “Yes,” Percy repeats.

               “Absolutely not!” Vex says sharply, uncertainty snapping against the border of obstinance.

               “ _Why?”_ Percy asks emphatically, eyes lighting up like he’s on the verge of finding the answer he’s been searching for.

               “I don’t know!” Vex says, throwing her hands up in exasperation. A muscle clenches in Percy’s jaw. “Do you _want_ me to leave you alone?” she demands. Percy blinks. He glances away for a second of thought, and when he looks back at her his gaze has softened somewhat.

               “No,” he says, but his previous question still lingers in his eyes. Vex sighs heavily, the noise almost a scowl.

               “I don’t know,” she repeats and looks up at the night sky once more. “How could I let you go alone? Knowing what you’re up against, knowing what happened… I mean, I might not be much help but if I _can_ help… well that’s the right thing to do isn’t it? Do I need a reason other than that?” Vex can feel Percy’s stare again, and against her better judgement she looks back at him once more. He’s considering her again. Trying to size her up. Judging by his expression he’s made some sort of headway, but isn’t completely satisfied yet. Vex squints at him, and wonders why he’s so determined to overcomplicate things.

               “No, I suppose you don’t,” Percy answers finally. He says the words slowly, almost like he’s surprised by them.

               “That’s that then,” Vex says, and folds her arms tightly over her chest before slouching further down and staring pointedly at the sky. She pulls away from Percy ever so slightly, and tries to convince herself that his gross overestimation of her complexity is flattering. She does not succeed, and allows herself this moment to stubbornly stew in self-pity.

               A long silence stretches between them, as vast and empty as the expanse of sky between The Broken Howl and the gleaming stars above. Though Vex’s gaze is fixed on those gleaming points of light, every other sense is focused on Percy; trying to gauge his thoughts based on his actions. His breathing has a slightly sharp edge, like he’s constantly on the verge of saying something but can’t quite choose the right words. The rest of him is sharp too, posture, expression, and aura. He sits slightly withdrawn, as though afraid his shoulder or elbow might cut her. His mouth is drawn into a thin line, and his eyes are keen and piercing. Vex can see their intensity even in her peripherals, and is glad that they are no longer focused on her. Everything about Percy speaks of withheld action. It is like standing at the edge of a massive thundercloud and waiting for lightning to strike. He is a maelstrom of potential energy, held back only by his pale, paper-thin skin, and sheer force of will. The hairs on Vex’s neck stand up, and she takes a breath to speak, if only to break the unbearably charged silence.

               “I used to watch people,” Percy says, before Vex can speak. She twitches a little, having failed to anticipate his words.

               “You… what?” she asks, looking over at him with a curious and skeptical expression. Percy’s cheeks color a little, and he folds his hands together in his lap. He stares at each interlocking finger, not quite able to look at Vex.

               “From the Astral Plane, you can see almost everything,” Percy explains, “I used to watch people. It’s like reading a book. I got to see people go on adventures, discover things about the world. I didn’t do it often. I was usually afraid of what I’d see. Many adventures did not have happy endings, and many discoveries were dangerous. But sometimes there were good things…” Percy trails off. He speaks all at once in a hurried and halting tone. It is very different from his usual manner of carefully constructing sentences. It seems that even after such a long silence, he is struggling to find something to speak on. Perhaps he had picked this topic because he too had found that charged quiet to be unbearable.

               Percy does not continue immediately. He sighs and twists his fingers together, looking anywhere but at Vex. She realizes that he isn’t sure if he ought to continue. His words, in hindsight, were spoken very much with the tone of an uncertain apology. Vex gnaws on her lip for a moment, and then relaxes enough to bump his shoulder with hers.

               Percy finally looks back at her and for a second Vex momentarily loses her words to the brightness of his eyes. He watches her with such openly restrained hope that it makes her heart ache. He must see that in her expression, because he is quick to guard his own. Vex’s heart falls as that little glimpse of light is whisked away by a bat of his eyelids. Nevertheless she offers him the barest twitch of a smile.

               “What good things?” she asks. Percy blinks. He looks back to his hands again, but this time only briefly before turning back to her.

               “There’s a man here in Stormhold. He lives in Vasselheim and he collects anything and everything he can get his hands on. Everyone else thinks it’s junk, or garbage, but he puts most of it to good use. There’s one substance he’s collected that’s explosive, a powder of sorts. Nobody else knows what to do with it, but he experiments.”

               “Explosive?” Vex asks, turning a little on her shoulder so she can look at Percy properly. He winces.

               “Yes, it’s one of the dangerous discoveries. He lost a few fingers to an explosion,” Percy says. Vex makes a noise of alarm. “Yes, I was upset too. I stopped watching for a while after that, but my curiosity got the better of me and I looked in again later. He still collected things. He still experimented. Every time I looked in after that, he lost another finger, or more of his arm.”

               “That’s awful!” Vex exclaims, crestfallen.

               “I thought so at first too. But he didn’t seem deterred by it in the slightest. If anything, it just made him more enthusiastic. I’ve grown rather fond of him. His name is Victor,” Percy says a little wistfully. Vex rolls back off of her shoulder and plops back down beside Percy, firmly wedged against his side.

               “That’s… interesting,” she says finally, with a little laugh. “Why tell me about it?” Percy taps his fingers together restlessly.

               “If we’re going to be risking our lives together… well we might as well get to know one another. The adventurers I watched… they were all friends. They didn’t always get their ‘happily ever after’, and the odds of us getting ours seems slim as well. But they often seemed... “ he’s having trouble articulating, tripping over his words because he’s letting them spill directly from his mind before organizing them. Percy makes a frustrated noise. Vex doesn’t press him, only waits calmly in the quiet while he gathers his thoughts.

               “They were friends, and it seemed that they fought harder for one another because of it. And if they fell, it hurt more to see each other go, but also less, because they were at least fighting _together_ until the end,” Percy says finally.

               “Are you planning on dying at my side, Percival?” Vex asks, half teasing. Percy blinks, and must suddenly realize how ominous and fatalistic that sounds, because he gives a small ‘hmm’ and takes a breath to try and amend the statement.

               Vex laughs and puts her hand on his arm before he can say anything because she knows what he meant. His breathing hitches a moment, and his words die in his throat.

               “I look up at the stars a lot,” she says. “Only unlike you I don’t get to watch a story unfold, I have to make up my own. You see that grouping there? If you tilt your head it looks like a bird about to take flight.” Vex points and tilts her head to the side. Doing so presses it against Percy’s shoulder. He doesn’t seem to notice, or if he does he doesn’t react, only follows her pointing finger and tilts his head. “When I was younger, I used to dream that it would fly through the sky and make other constellations. Sometimes I would wish it would come and pluck me and my brother from our rooftop and take us far away. Our father aborted a dozen of our attempted excursions into the woods, but I was convinced he could never catch us if only we took to the sky.”

               “I can’t see it,” Percy admits after a minute. Vex laughs and outlines the bird more emphatically with her fingertip.

               “There! See the beak? And the wings? The talons are a little wonky, but if you squint a little…”

               “...alright,” Percy says skeptically, but clearly still doesn’t see.

               Vex laughs and drops her hand onto her leg, but doesn’t lift her head. She’s lost in the memory of the great spectral bird, feathers littered with glimmering lights. It’s one of the things she’d imagined up as a child, possibly the least embarrassing of all the stories she’d conjured up for her constellations.

               “I like to make things,” Percy says. “I used to make toys for my younger siblings when I upset them.”

               “You? Upset someone? Goodness I can’t imagine you doing that at all,” Vex deadpans with a grin. Percy scoffs and shifts his seating to jostle her a little. Vex laughs and lifts her head from his shoulder. She brushes a strand of hair from her face. The wind had whisked much of it from her braid, leaving it to fall in slightly frazzled locks around her face.

               “Oh we upset each other plenty,” Percy says, folding his arms. “Cassandra and I especially always butted heads.”

               “Vax and I tease sometimes,” Vex says, and pauses to think for a moment, “but I don’t remember ever being upset at him for anything.”

               “Might be a twin thing,” Percy suggests.

               “Or a terrible father thing,” Vex supplies with a bitter laugh. She shakes her head at Percy’s sympathetic look. “Oh I’m being dramatic,” she says, waving him off. Vex smiles at him, but can tell he sees right through the hollow gesture to the age-old hurt beneath. He’s the one to reach out this time. He touches her arm and Vex almost flinches away from the gesture. The warmth of his hand seeps through her sleeve and crawls slowly to her heart. Vex doesn’t know what to do with herself for a moment.

               “How serious we’ve gotten,” she says, with a bit of a forced chuckle. Percy joins her, his laugh equally forced, but they both stumble into genuine smiles and reclaim a bit of levity together. “My favorite color is green,” Vex says.

               “What shade?” Percy asks. Vex is grateful for how easily he accepts the change in topic, but notices he does not remove his hand from her arm.

               “Dark green, like the forest canopy in the middle of summer. What about you?” there is not an immediate answer to her question.

               “I’ve never thought about it much before,” he admits.

               “Too busy thinking about Star-things?” Vex asks in faux-seriousness.

               “Something like that,” Percy replies with a small breath of laughter.

               “Think about it. When this is all over--” Vex has to pause to stifle a sudden yawn. “When this is all over, and we find that happy ending, you can tell me what your favorite color is.” Percy’s fingers tighten a little bit on her arm.

               “So sure of our success?” Percy asks, and Vex can hear him fighting to not let that lethal seriousness enter his voice.

               “No,” Vex says, curling a little bit in on herself to try and get more comfortable. “But wouldn’t it make a good story?”

               “In my experience…” Percy starts to protest, but he trails off. He glances down at Vex who is huddled at his side and looking up at him with raised brows. She’s waiting for him to say something bleak, but he doesn’t. He gives her a curious look, and then glances back toward the sky. She watches him tilt his head, and squint at the distant stars. He hums thoughtfully, and Vex wonders if he finally sees the bird she’d drawn in the sky for him. “Yes,” he says finally, voice quiet. “It would make a good story.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *jazz hands*


	17. Rumbling Grumblings for Rude Awakenings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vex and Percy wake and go about having breakfast while the crew goes about their business.

               Percival is the first to be roused by the quiet promptings of an unfamiliar voice. His eyelids peel back ever so slightly so he can squint accusingly at the source of the noise that has dragged him from slumber. A small face, at least eighty-percent grin, peers at him from over the edge of the crow’s nest. Percival recognizes him… what had Captain Trickfoot called her fellow gnome? Scamman? Scandal? Something like that. The actual name may come with wakefulness, but Percival is in no mood to pursue that. He would much rather pursue sleep, and forgetting about the blindingly bright smile leering down at him like the early morning sun.

               “What?” he asks groggily, the words spilling clumsily out of his cotton filled mouth.

               “I said the crow’s nest isn’t a place I would’ve picked. Too cramped,” Percival’s offender says brightly, “but I’ll give you points for creativity.”

               Percival, now at least a quarter awake, realizes abruptly that he is slumped against Vex’ahlia. His heart freezes, and then starts to beat at a terrible skittering pace. Her hair is a little frazzled and tickles at his cheek as he pulls slightly away, leaving a flattened spot where his head had fallen for an evening’s rest. His arm is tangled up in hers, with her curled fingertips resting just underneath his palm. Her long legs are tossed carelessly over his, which are folded uncomfortably against the circular curve of the watch nest. Percival freezes, and for a moment he is completely blind to his onlooker. Every sense hones tensely in on Vex’ahlia. Her breathing is still coming slow and even. Her fingers twitch slightly at his movement, but otherwise she does not stir. The nameless panic that had risen in Percival’s chest subsides.

               “What?” Percival asks again, quietly this time. His head turns toward the gnome, but his eyes remain fixed on Vex’ahlia.

               “I didn’t say anything else,” Scanlan says mildly, still grinning. He has his head propped up on both hands, but Percival does not notice. He’s too busy slowly untangling himself from Vex’ahlia. His muscles are sore, and his bones ache--sleeping in a cramped crow’s nest isn’t something he hopes to be repeating soon--but Percival manages to extract himself without waking her. She slumps a little without the support of his body against hers. Finally free, Percival breathes a sigh of relief. He’s much too tired to think on _why_ he had been so embarrassed and quick to disentangle himself from her form.

               “No, I mean before--again. What did you say?” Percival asks, half rising and finally looking toward… Scanlan! His name is Scanlan!

               “Nevermind,” he says after a beat of silent smiling. “Scoot over, I have to take watch. We’re expecting to reach the edges of a storm soon.”

               “Oh,” Percival says, now half awake. He blinks and leans back so that Scanlan can jump into the crow’s nest. The gentle thump of his feet against the timber finally rouses Vex. She blinks her eyes once, twice, and with a single yawn and stiff-armed stretch, she sits up and appears almost perfectly awake. Percival has no idea how she manages it so quickly. Blasted Material Plane folks and their insane sleep cycles. Mornings are not meant for Stars.

               “Good Gods, did we both fall asleep up here?” Vex asks. She rubs her eyes and looks over at Scanlan, barely a few inches taller than her even though she’s sitting down. “Good morning Scanlan!”

               “Good morning. Did you spend the evening…” he trails off, devilish smile dwindling as she arches a single, severe eyebrow at him.

               “Make a joke about playing instruments,” Vex says, “I dare you.” Her words ring like the unsheathing of a blade through the clear morning air. Percival, suddenly fully awake and keenly watching the exchange, sees, and hears, Scanlan give an audible gulp. He cannot tell if it is exaggerated or not.

               Finally, Scanlan’s initial words--and their implications--make their way into Percival’s mind. The blush and indignant flare of his nostrils are belated responses that read clearly on his face. Thankfully they go unnoticed by the otherwise occupied occupants of the crow’s nest. Rather than dally on Scanlan’s implied lewdness, Percival chooses instead to focus on the scene unfolding in front of him.

               Vex’ahlia has said very little out loud, but her body language and expression speaks volumes. It speaks in words tailored to Scanlan’s eyes, and had Percival not been a watcher all of his life, it might’ve flown right over his own head. All at once she had commanded Scanlan to curb his joke. Yes with her words, but also with the sharp gleam of her eyes, the arching of a brow, and a subtle daring twitch of her lips. _Just try it,_ that faint smile said, while the rest of her body threatened consequence.

               “Me? Make jokes and innuendos? Never!” Scanlan says, and he grins but there is the faintest quaver to his voice. But the steel of Vex’ahlia’s expression softens as that daring grin becomes a gentle and genuine smile. An acceptance of his retreat, a quiet _thank you_ that mingles with a touch of relief. Vex’ahlia seems about to speak, but instead winks at Scanlan. An invitation of playfulness. Permission to continue banter. Forgiveness for his terminated attempt to traipse into unacceptable territory. Percival, dumbfounded, is left to wonder how she’d built such an easy and comprehensive rapport with the gnome in such a short amount of time.

               With that wink, Vex’ahlia gets to her feet and turns away from Scanlan. Her eyes fall upon Percival, and he watches her expression change. He must wear a look of intensity because she is somewhat startled by him.  A flicker of embarrassment crosses her face, and all of the certainty she had while interacting with Scanlan briefly vanishes. A different confidence resurfaces. A different body language. One tailored to _him,_ Percival realizes. But it seems she isn’t quite sure of the fit yet. There’s a moment of silence and Percival can feel her sizing him up. It’s only fair, he thinks. He’s scrutinized her a dozen times over in half as many days, searching for something that yet eludes him. Percival finds himself holding his breath in anticipation, wondering what words she will choose to speak to him.

               Vex’ahlia reaches up and straightens his cravat, and then tugs on the lapels of his coat to straighten the garment over his shoulders. The motions are brisk. Almost formal. Almost safe. But not quite. The line blurs when she takes an extra beat to pick at the gold trim of his coat. And had her fingertips brushed against his throat on purpose or by accident? Percival is good at watching. Good at drawing conclusions based on evidence. He’s an observer, a tinkerer, but up on the Astral Plane everything is at arm’s length. Down here there’s interference with the data. His pulse is too quick and it’s distracting. _She’s_ distracting. It’s maddening and it coaxes out the faintest smile onto Percival’s lips. The way a realism painter smiles at surrealist art; recognition of something marvelous, despite the inability to comprehend it, or the base knowledge to truly appreciate it.

               Vex’ahlia smiles back, says something that does not make it into Percival’s head because it’s already crammed to capacity, and then she turns and swings herself over the edge of the crow’s nest. Percival finds himself leaning over the ledge and watching her descend.

               “Wewh,” Scanlan sighs, startling Percival back to his senses. He’s up on his tiptoes with his forearms balanced on the ledge of the watch nest. He’s watching Vex’ahlia depart too. “She’s intimidating.” The gnome looks up at Percival, and Percival looks down at the gnome. He looks openly relieved that Vex’ahlia is no longer looming over him, but there’s also a mischievous gleam in his eye. For a moment the air is tense, like the world is waiting for Scanlan to deliver some sort of punchline. “I’ve got nothing,” the gnome says with a shrug. Percival breathes a sigh of relief. “But she did say you should join her for breakfast. You didn’t look like you were listening.”

               “Right!” Percival says, and swings one leg over the nest and onto the rope rigging. He glances down at Vex’ahlia as her feet hit the deck and she looks back up at him expectantly. “Right,” Percival repeats and starts to climb down.

               Scanlan watches him until he rejoins Vex’ahlia, and the two wander below decks. He purses his lips together once they are out of sight and folds his arms over his chest.

               “Well,” Scanlan says, to nobody in particular. “ _That’s_ probably going to be obvious to everyone except them.”

 

* * *

 

               “Hungry?” Captain Trickfoot’s voice rings out behind Vex’ahlia and Percival. They turn in unison to face her. Together they had found their way to the mess hall, but it was empty and clean. Apparently everyone on the ship had very early mornings, and the two newest passengers had missed the usual breakfast.

               “Starving,” Vex’ahlia says brightly, and with far too much cheer for this atrocious hour. He glances toward her and finds it to be a similar experience to walking into bright light after spending a long time in a dark room. He turns his gaze back to Captain Trickfoot. The little gnome is a sunny beacon herself, but softer, gentler. A soothing middle ground between the darkness and the light. A stepping stone.

               “Yes, very,” Percival confirms. The air captain smiles and beckons them along as she turns.

               “I saved you some food. You can eat in my cabin,” she says. The trio walks briskly through the halls, and Percival cannot help but notice the hum of activity in the air.

               “The one called Scanlan, he mentioned we’re coming up on a storm,” Percival prompts.

               “It’s the reason for all the hustle and bustle,” Captain Trickfoot confirms cheerfully, and pushes the door to her cabin open. She motions them inside, “I’d stay and chat over breakfast with you, but the fringes of a storm need careful watching. I’d like to be at the helm.”

               “Will we be coming up on the storm soon?” Vex’ahlia asks, and Percival cannot tell if it’s apprehension or excitement that pitches her voice slightly upward.

               “I’d estimate a day or two,” Captain Trickfoot says, but she hesitates a beat before adding, “although, things seem… different.” She takes a deep breath, and holds it. It almost seems like she’s tasting the air, testing the feel of it in her lungs. She has one hand pressed to her metal-plated coat. Her palm rests, presumably, over where the amulet of Sarenrae hangs over her chest. “It may be upon us sooner than expected. If that’s the case, you two should stay below decks,” Captain Trickfoot says after a long exhale.

               Vex’ahlia deflates a little, and Percival sneaks a glance at her. He finds that looking at her makes him extremely aware of the tangled mess of emotion in his chest. Last night had been… _something._ Percival had been searching for an answer to a question, and after receiving it had found himself completely unsatisfied. It wasn’t that the answer itself was false or hollow. It was the fact that he’d already known the answer; it was the realization that the burning curiosity in his chest was tethered to a different question altogether. And that question… that question proved most troublesome and dangerous.

               “Don’t worry,” Captain Trickfoot says with a laugh, “If the storm is on schedule, we’ll have time to run you through the basics of harvesting lightning. If not, there will be time to teach you before we reach the next storm.” Her words placate Vex’ahlia, who nods her assent to their logic.

               “Thank you, captain,” Percival says. The gnome gives a little bow, and then turns sharply on her heel to whisk herself above deck.

               When he turns back to Vex’ahlia, Percival finds that she’s already over at Captain Trickfoot’s large desk. There’s a few platters of food there, and an extra chair has been pulled up to the edge. Vex’ahlia is already biting into an apple, and smiles at Percival. Without thinking he smiles back, and crosses the room to join her. They eat in silence for a while. It might have been an awkward quiet, but Percival is too hungry to do anything other than focus on his food.

               “You miss dinner yesterday?” Vex’ahlia finally asks, tearing off pieces of bread from her half loaf. Percival swallows, and carefully brushes some crumbs from his hands.

               “And the day before,” he admits.

               “No wonder you’re inhaling everything. Here, you can have the rest of my bread,” she says, and offers it to him. Percival hesitates, but hunger overrides any sense of pride that balks at taking her food. He nods a quiet thanks and starts to eat that as well. Vex’ahlia dusts her palms against her pants.

               “So I didn’t get a chance to tell you before, and I wasn’t sure if you wanted Pike to know. That necklace of yours. I think that’s the darkness that kept Yennen from contacting you,” Vex touches her chest, mirroring where the pendant hangs under Percival's shirt. He remembers her gesture while they were speaking with Captain Trickfoot the previous morning, and nods.

               “I agree. Although I’m not sure what the nature of--” Percival has to stop and swallow his mouthful of food. “--excuse me. I’m not sure what the nature of it is. I inspected it as best I could yesterday, and certainly it seems magical. But it’s also inert. There’s no trace of how Ripley used it to drag me from the Astral Plane, and nothing to suggest any other hidden powers. I suspect the Briarwoods will know its capabilities better than I.”

               “Should we get rid of it?” Vex’ahlia asks, eyeing it hesitantly. Percival hums thoughtfully, he’d considered that option. “We could barter it for some coin, maybe?”

               “I don’t think we should sell it. It’s dangerous, that much is certain. I wouldn’t want it to end up hurting someone unsuspecting… and I imagine the Briarwoods would not be above unscrupulous actions to retrieve it. I think it’s best if we keep this piece of misfortune for ourselves,” Percival muses, thumbing the outline of the pendant under his shirt.

               “I hadn’t thought about that,” Vex’ahlia admits. There’s a brief, charged silence, and Percival can tell Vex’ahlia is struggling to say something. He doesn’t meet her eye and takes another bite of breakfast to give her some time to come to terms with whatever she’s about to ask.

               “Percy, have you considered that… going back to the Briarwoods is exactly what they want?” Vex’ahlia manages at last.

               “It is undoubtedly exactly what they want,” Percival replies evenly, though his heart beats a little faster.

               “Oh… good,” she says weakly with a touch of sarcasm, and then glances away. “Percy why do they want you and your sister? Why did they kill your family?” Her voice is very small. “You don’t have to tell me,” she adds quickly, “I just thought… it might be important if I’m--” Percival holds up a hand to stop her.

               “It’s alright,” he reassures gently, though he cannot hide the slight strain in his tones. “You’re right. You should know.” He says this, but does not immediately answer her question.

               Percival slowly finishes his food, quietly deciding how best to explain things to Vex’ahlia. A familiar cold settles in his bones as he thinks. This is not a topic he is particularly fond of.

               “Stars are a source of immense and potent magical energy. We take forms on the Material Plane in order to contain that energy,” he begins finally.

               “I remember you saying something like that,” Vex’ahlia interjects with a nod. There’s a glimmer in her eye that suggests she’s been theorizing about this topic. “You said you could destabilize your form and release energy?” Despite the somewhat grim topic, Percival can’t help the little smile that curls onto his face. She’s clever. The tangle of emotions in his chest gives a somewhat unpleasant twitch. Percival sets his jaw and resolves to untangle it later.

               “Yes. It’s… not particularly easy or pleasant, and is a dramatic drain on our lives, but it can be done. The Briarwoods, I suspect, want to use that power for something. Years ago they killed my family for their power. They _started_ something, and I imagine they’re still trying to finish it using Cassandra and I.”

               “What about Ripley?” Vex’ahlia presses. The name strikes a chill down Percival’s spine like a spike of cold iron. “She and the Briarwoods clearly weren’t working together back at the Inn. What’s she after?”

               “Doctor Anna Ripley is--” Percival has to bite off his next slew of words rather sharply. The unspoken syllables burn on his tongue, and the spoken ones hang in the air like some acrid, toxic smoke. Percival has to take a shaking breath to steady himself. “She aided the Briarwoods _before_ in whatever their task was. I suspect that _I_ was her payment for that aid. The Briarwoods were swift in harvesting the power of my family. Anna was not. The Briarwoods had a singular purpose, one thing to direct power to. Unlike them, Anna had many experiments to divide her attention--and my power--among. And she did not rush them. She was slow and deliberate in siphoning away my power. Ever since I escaped, I suspect she has been… eager to continue those experiments.”

               Percival isn’t sure when he closed his eyes. He isn’t sure when he started reliving the memories of those dark days alone with Anna Ripley and her relentless pursuit of discovery. Percival had been sickened to discover that his re-manifested body had been formed with the scars of Ripley’s ingenuity. Part of him had half hoped that those marks would simply wash away. That they wouldn’t survive the years spent in the Astral Plane where they existed only in his memory. But those scars were soul-deep apparently, and when he had taken his form once more on the Material Plane, they had refused to be left out. Each one prickles uncomfortably on his skin, as though roused by the memory of their creator.

               There’s a phantom touch against Percival’s arm. He flinches away from it, opening his eyes and looking down at where Vex’ahlia’s hand is hovering. She hasn’t touched him, too uncertain of the gesture and what it might evoke. Percival is a loathe to look up at her face and see the pity writ upon the lines of her expression. But he finds he cannot stop himself. Like iron to a lodestone his attention is pulled to her gaze, and what he finds there is surprising.

               There is pity there certainly, but not the painful, chronic, hopeless ache Percival had been expecting. In fact, the pity itself is almost indiscernible behind something else. Her dark eyes flicker, black irises gleaming like still-hot coals with the promise of flame. She draws careful, strained breaths through barely parted lips and bared teeth, as though afraid to breathe and give those embers terrifying new life. Her expression is carved from outrage and resolve, and Percival can feel that her hovering hand is trembling as surely as he is.

               That tangle of emotions in his chest strains again. How strange it is to find such a determined and unwavering ally after spending so much time alone. Even stranger to find it in someone who, as far as Percival can tell, has no reason to help him whatsoever… other than her own resolute conscience. Percival gives a pained smile--more of a grimace really.

               “It’s alright,” he says, and puts his hand over hers, pressing it to where it had hovered over his arm. He feels her fingers curl into the fabric of his sleeve. The warmth of her touch, and the intensity of her gaze helps to stave off the chilled touch of memory and dread. Vex’ahlia clenches her jaw and takes a breath.

               “No it isn’t,” she says firmly. Percival blinks at her. It’s… peculiar to hear her say that. Possibly because for years that exact thought has been lingering in his mind, unspoken, and unattended to. He had escaped while his family perished. He had left behind Cassandra. He had made a deal, a terrible deal, with a terrible entity in order to get back home. He was not an innocent party. The world did not exist in the black and white of good and evil, but rather a much more muddled grey area. Whatever harm had come to him, it must have leveled out the harm he had dealt to others. So it was _fine._ It was alright. Or so he said. So he told himself.

               Percival opens his mouth to speak, but a crack of thunder drowns him out. Both he and Vex’ahlia jump at the sudden noise. The sound sends a cold wave of dread through Percival, and given their recent topic of discussion his thoughts immediately jump to the worst conclusion: To Anna Ripley and her murderous inventions. With Vex’ahlia beside him, he takes a half-step in front of her and turns his shoulder to the source of the sound, instinct pulling him into a stance that presents a smaller target. When Percival reminds himself that he’s on an airship, hundreds of feet in the air, chasing a thunderstorm, and well out of Ripley’s reach, he lets out a shaking breath of relief. Vex’ahlia lets out her own breath at nearly the same time, and they glance to one another and share a mildly embarrassed laugh.

               Together they look down at where Percival’s hand is still clamped over Vex’ahlia’s. He can feel the tight grip of her fingers, and her free hand has twined itself around his. She readjusts her stance slightly, but not before Percival notes that she had apparently been ready to throw her weight into dragging him… somewhere. She’s blushing, and opens her mouth to say something, but stops as a sudden gust of wind rattles the glass windows. It carries a rush of rain with it, and suddenly the bright cheerful morning is lost to darkness. A flash of lightning precludes another rumble of thunder, this one less like the crack of a whip and more like the awakenings of some terribly large beast.

               The Broken Howl lurches, and Percival and Vex’ahlia both stagger, clinging to each other to help keep their footing. Distant shouts reach them over the gusting of the storm and the rumbling of thunder. The airship lurches again, and the shouting intensifies. There’s an impossibly bright flash of lightning and a splintering noise that _definitely_ can’t be good. Vex’ahlia and Percival exchange a glance, and then she releases her hold on him and bolts for the door.

               Percival snags her hand before she can escape, and pulls her back.

               “What are you doing?” he demands. “Captain Trickfoot said we should stay below!” His words are echoed with a chorus of more yelling from outside, and another rattling lurch. Vex’ahlia gestures violently with her free hand toward the door, as though the noises are explanation enough. When Percival does not relent, Vex’ahlia scowls at him.

               “And you told me I ought to leave you alone once we reach Westruun, but I’m not going to do that either! They clearly need our help!” she says. Percival’s resolve flickers.

               “We don’t know what we’re doing up there,” he says, “We’d just get in the way!”

               “Pike showed me around, and you’re smart! We’ll figure it out! Some help has to be better than no help at all!” Vex’ahlia argues. Percival looks past her for a moment, and then back to her hard, determined eyes. He tightens his grip on her hand, and watches a muscle in her jaw clench as she resolves to pull away from him. But before she can try, he gives her a nod. She’s right. Vex’ahlia blinks at him, surprised.

               “Let’s go,” he says, and she grins at him, bright and brilliant and afraid all at once. Together they dash from Captain Trickfoot’s cabin. That tangle of emotions flares up in Percival’s chest as his heart hammers against his ribcage, thundering in time with their frantic footfalls across the wooden floors. It coils around his lungs, but does not constrict them, merely makes him vividly aware of every vibrant breath he draws in Vex’ahlia’s presence as they rush into danger once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have, with this chapter, officially reached 100 pages of frivelous, self-indulgent, slow burning, Stardust Perc'ahlia AU. I had to take a step back and ask myself what the hell I'm doing. 
> 
> 100 pages.
> 
> I've reached that mark exactly ONCE before in my writing career. This is ridiculous. This is absolutely ridiculous. And god damn it I'm proud? So proud to be here, and so happy to have all of you guys along for the ride. I'd say we've solidly hit the halfway mark in my plot outline for this story, although admittantly I've been winging a lot of as I go. 
> 
> A big thanks to everyone who's here and sharing this adventure with me. A huge thanks to my lovely beta reader who encourages and keeps me in check. Cheek kisses for everyone who's in it for the long haul. Hugs for the folks who poked and prodded me into starting this endeavor in the first place. It's a hell of a ride, and I'm excited to keep going with all of you.


	18. The Voice of The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vex and Percy get up close and personal with a storm, and find a spark between the both of them that could either be lightning... or something more.

               Vex has never been in the heart of a storm. She’s watched wind and the rain through her windows back in Syngorn. She’s blinked as lightning flashes left light-scars in the back of her eyes. She’s pressed her cheek against the glass to feel it rattle with thunder that makes goosebumps raise on her skin. That memory, that definition of ‘storm’, seems far removed and vastly inadequate in the face of the creature Vex finds prowling above the deck of The Broken Howl. This beast is a different breed entirely.

               The wind roars, howling through the air, screaming past her ears like a thousand banshees sweeping by to steal the warmth from her body. The rain pelts at her skin, fierce and stinging and relentless, like running through a patch of thick brambles. Within moments of stepping outside, it’s impossible to tell if the chilled prickling sensation is from the torrent of rain droplets, or the onset of numbness induced by cold. The lightning streaks by like some unnatural bird of prey. It starts out as a single bolt of light and then spreads its wings to lance off in different directions, arcing through the air with unknown purpose. Though it’s there and gone in less than an instant, each strike seems to linger unnaturally long. Perhaps it merely seems that way because of the fraction of a second of silence. Anticipation always makes things seem to happen slower, and that wake of silence after the lightning is woven  _ entirely _ out of anticipation. 

               Vex  finds herself holding her breath after each flash of lightning, and can’t quite convince her lungs to work in that spanse of time no matter how she barters with them. The storm has many voices: the wind, the rain, the intricate dance of lightning, but it is the thunder that speaks with the most authority. It is the thunder that keeps you on your toes, because it’s never quite the same. It tears through the air like the beat of massive leathery wings reaching the apex of their stroke. It rattles the timbers of the airship and the bones of  its occupants like the roar of a tiger swollen to a thousand times the usual size. It strikes muscles into reactive motion with the awful ripping snap of a six-tongued whip made to motivate giants with cruelty.

               For a few seconds--a small eternity in the midst of this behemoth of split-second lightning, pelting rain, and razor quick winds--Vex and Percy stand just outside of the doors that lead below the deck. Both are too stunned to move. There’s so much and at such an incredible scale that it takes a moment to process. In that time the pair is immediately drenched, nearly buffeted off their feet by the wind, and startled to death and back by the authoritative voice of thunder. Vex does not let go of Percy’s hand. She looks down at it numbly, a tiny lifeline. A single soul could never hope to face this behemoth… but together perhaps there’s a chance.

               Vex looks up at Percy. He shakes his head at her, an incredulous look on his face. He opens his mouth to speak, but quickly snaps it shut as a lance of lightning pierces through the clouds. Together they brace for the thunder, and it hits them like a physical blow, but they keep their footing against it.

               “You’re smiling!” Percy  shouts in the relative silence left in the wake of thunder. Vex reaches up with her free hand to touch at her face, already numb with cold, and finds that he’s right. There’s an uncontrollable grin split across her expression, and she realizes very suddenly that she’s terrified in a way she’s never been terrified before. It’s a fear completely different from what she worried about in Syngorn. A fear that, despite its epic proportions, feels tangible and real. A fear she can face. It’s unnervingly freeing.

               “Come on!” she shouts, “lash yourself to a lifeline!” together they hurry to the center of the ship where dozens of ropes are secured to the center mast of the crow’s nest. They separate to find two unused ropes and secure themselves with shaking hands. Without thinking, Vex returns to Percy’s side once she’s finished with her knot and takes hold of his arm. She’s about to turn her gaze around the deck to survey what’s going on, but her attention is grabbed by a rope that suddenly snaps taut near her hip.

               The shouting of the crew, which has been largely drowned out in the wind until this point, intensifies into a disjointed chorus of ‘ _ Man overboard!’. _ Without thinking, Vex bolts, following the line of rope to the edge of the airship. The wind and shift of the deck under her feet almost sends her off balance, but she catches herself hard against the rail. She winces at the blow, but spares no thought for the bruise that will surely curl across her hip as a result. Instead, she focuses on the dark shape at the end of the rope that snakes over the edge of the vessel. Vex wraps her fingers around the slippery rope and pulls. She makes perhaps a half inch of progress.

               With a scowl, Vex plants one foot on the deck, the other on the railing, and pulls again. This time she makes some progress, but quickly loses it as a flash of lightning and bellow of thunder make her flinch and lose her grip. A strong hand claps her shoulder as she recovers. Vex glances back at Percy, his face set with determination.

               “Pull! We’ve got your back!” he shouts. Vex looks behind him to see two others holding onto the rope and waiting expectantly for her cue. She nods, and then turns back to her task. She pulls. It’s like clawing her way up to the crow's nest the previous evening. She pulls hand over hand, the wind whipping at her face, heart beating at triple-pace. She doesn’t know a damn thing about man-overboard-protocol, and thus regulates the rhythm simply by shouting ‘pull’ at the top of her lungs with every heave. 

               The dark, limp form of a body gets hauled snug against the railing. Vex has to fight the reflex to jump forward and pull him to safety, lest their grip slip and they go falling into the sky once more. Thankfully, someone else bolts forward to drag the crew member back on board. Vex darts forward as the rope falls slack. The man is limp in the arms of his fellow deckhand. She presses a shaking hand to his throat and finds his skin cold and clammy, but after a few tense moments she feels the faint flicker of a pulse.

               “Alive!” Vex shouts triumphantly, but notes the dark streams of blood constantly being washed across his face by the rain. Before she can say anything else, he’s whisked away.

               “What can we do?” Percy is shouting to someone else behind her, but Vex is leaning over the railing again. Long metal bands run the length of the hull, each carved with runes to help direct lightning. Pike had explained them briefly during their tour. One of them is curled out near the stem of the ship, like a strip of bark peeled off of a dying tree. The metal is charred at the end, and where it peels away there is a large splintered gouge in The Broken Howl. The wound stretches from the hull to the deck of the ship. 

               Looking around Vex can see Pike at the wheel. The captain is tiny, but somehow seems the largest out of all of them. Even at this distance through the rain and the wind, her aura is resolute and permeates the entire deck of The Broken Howl. Vex can sense her iron-clad expression more than she can see it, and notes that though she struggles to steer her vessel, she seems completely in control. She’s shouting orders, and somehow the wind seems to quiet for her… but even Pike punctuates her sentences around the commandments of thunder. The voice of the storm relents for no one.

               “Starboard channels are splintered! Crew to port! Watch for misdirects!” Pike yells. She’s looking at Vex and the small rescue team when she speaks. Percy grabs Vex by the arm and pulls her away from the right side of the vessel. As if on cue another flash of lightning tears the sky asunder. It lances along the side of The Broken Howl. For a second it seems like it will simply streak beyond them, but then it reaches the curled edge of the metal plate and arcs up and over the deck. Vex shouts, and the rest of the crew reflexively ducks as the lightning spiderwebs over them. For a second, Vex is sure this is how they’ll all die. But instead of frying them where they stand, the lightning is drawn to the metal netting that extends from the crow’s nest to the rails of the ship. It darts up and down the thick wires, lacing them like fairy lights for a moment before dissolving  into darkness with an angry hiss.

               There is a deep, guttural rumble of thunder that rages by like a mud or rockslide down the side of a mountain. Vex cannot help but think it sounds disappointed that it did not claim their lives. In the wake of its great bellowing, Pike lifts her head to the sky and roars back. Vex looks up at the ferocious sky captain and for a moment is struck dumb by her. A tangle of reactive emotions clamor in Vex’s body, a mixture of relief, awe, elation, and persistent mildly hysteric terror. Like an unseemly concoction of dark and light liquors, the emotions do not cohabitate comfortably. Vex feels like she might vomit, so it comes as a surprise to her as well as Percy when she laughs instead.

               “Thanks!” she shouts to him, gesturing toward the area he had dragged her from. She would have undoubtedly been devoured by lightning if she hadn’t moved. “Are you okay?” she asks, noticing that he’s still clutching at her arms to keep them both steady.

               “Are  _ you?!” _ he asks, disbelieving. He’s looking at her like maybe her brain got a little singed despite his best efforts. Vex grins at him, or maybe she’s been grinning this entire time? It’s hard to tell with her face all numb. 

               “Well… Stormhold is certainly living up to its name!” she yells back with a shrug. It’s not exactly an answer to inspire his confidence in her sanity... but maybe she’s still feeling giddy and a little bit on the windward side of sane. Because surely  _ enjoying _ this has to be a little bit insane? But she’s enjoying it nonetheless. Percy’s lips twitch upward into a somewhat reluctant, and definitely incredulous smile. Vex finds she enjoys herself much more with him smiling at her side. Sanity be damned.

               “Hands on deck! Port channels are still up! Cast your lines boys and girls, let’s go fishing!” Pike shouts, and throws the wheel of the ship to put them into the line of a wind gust. For a moment they’re traveling with the wind and the rain, and Vex’s stomach drops out from beneath her.

               “You should move!” a familiar booming voice says behind Vex and Percy. They look over--and up--to Grog as he addresses them. There’s a grin across his face to mirror Vex’s, but his is a touch more feral than hers. He gives them both a little scooch as he walks by, and Percy and Vex both scamper toward the center mast. They watch the flurry of activity on the left side of the ship.

               Crew hands take positions along the railing of The Broken Howl, each clad in protective garb that both Percy and Vex lack. There’s a shout from the crow’s nest that sounds like Scanlan, but Vex can’t discern what he says. It must be a signal because Pike wrenches the wheel around again and their vessel goes into a sharp, swooping curve. The hull of The Broken Howl skims along a massive thunderhead. As they do, the metal channels split off from the side of the ship. For a moment Vex thinks something must have gone wrong, but she catches a glimpse of metal netting that slides into place between each plate. It reminds Vex of a webbed bat wing, and disappears into the cloud. There’s a beat of silence and darkness, and then lightning splits through the thunderhead.

               The skeletal outline of the channels and netting strikes a stark silhouette at first, and then everything inverts. The lightning jumps to each prong and scurries along the netting, setting it alight with crackling energy. It travels up each channel toward the ship. The crew are working at a rapid pace, making connections that Vex can’t see from her point of view. They’re slinging something over the side of the ship, and then attaching those smaller lines to what appears to be large hoses. The hoses are about as wide around as Vex’s thigh, and thickly insulated with some kind of tarp. There are two men to each hose, except for Grog who stands alone.

               Vex watches in fascination as the hoses leap up like worms with minds of their own. The smaller lines feed into the larger ones, writhing with power. The crew members wrestle each flailing, copper nozzle into mating slots embedded in the deck of the airship. Each hose only remains connected for maybe six seconds before they’re yanked back. The mating slots have to be closed off immediately to stop the gouts of lightning that try to claw their way to freedom. The rattling channels and its webbing are then painstakingly cranked back flush against the hull of the ship. Then the crew waits for Pike to catch another gale, for Scanlan to spot their lightning, and for the process to repeat all over again.

               Another wayward spray of lightning arcs from the damaged starboard channel over the deck. Vex and Percy both duck instinctively, but are protected by the safety netting overhead. This does not go unnoticed by Pike who points a finger at them and shouts,

               “Get inside!” It is not an order to be disobeyed. Vex and Percy undo their lifelines and then scramble shoulder to shoulder back into the shelter provided by The Broken Howl. 

               Inside it is unnaturally quiet. The air is painfully void of howling wind and spitting rain. Even the thunder is somewhat muted by the heavy timbers below deck. What’s left behind is the heavy, shaking breaths that Vex and Percy draw into chilled lungs through chattering teeth. Vex’s fingers are numb, her face is numb. She looks over at Percy and he’s a pitiful sight with his hair plastered to his face and his coat weighing him down. His glasses are completely fogged over and sliding down his nose. He peers over their gold rims at her.

               The two burst out laughing.

               “I’ve never done  _ anything _ like that before!” Vex gasps, trying to smother her giggles. She isn’t even sure why she’s laughing, but she suddenly feels very tired. 

               “Me either,” Percy  says, grinning at her.

               “We didn’t really  _ do _ anything,” Vex says, and tries fruitlessly to wipe her face with her wet hands.

               “We did a  _ little. _ Like you said, a little help is better than none at all,” Percy points out, gesturing vaguely. He instinctively pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, forgetting they’re fogged over. Vex laughs again as he renders himself blind. She raises her trembling hands and lifts the spectacles gently off of his face. She wipes them off, leaving a smear of tiny droplets behind. It’s not much of an improvement, but like Percy just said: every little bit helps. 

               Vex perches the glasses back on Percy’s face, absently brushing damp strands of hair out of the way as she does. His skin is cold, and his lips are pale, almost blue for lack of body heat, but his eyes are warm. An additional shiver races down Vex’s back, not that it’s discernable from her persistent trembling. She pulls her hands away from his face very slowly. Her fingertips instinctively find the tail of her ragged braid, but rather than twist at it, they merely curl around the mess of damp hair.

               They’re out of danger, safely squirreled away from the storm, but Vex’s heart is still beating rapidly in her chest. She realizes abruptly that she’s staring at Percy, and shortly thereafter realizes that he is staring at her, and neither of them have said anything for an inordinate amount of time. They’ve been standing silently in the empty hall. Percy must realize this too because he leans back a fraction, blinking, and clears his throat. He rubs at the back of his neck. Vex suspects it is to try and hide the warm blush crawling along his skin.

               “Thank you,” he says, and then readjusts his glasses a little.

               “Sure,” Vex answers, and begins to pick at her braid. “We should probably... “

               “Yes,” Percy says without waiting for her to finish, and he walks promptly down the hall. Vex watches him leave, absently combing her fingers through her hair and slowly wringing some of the water out of it. Percy shrugs out of his sodden coat as he walks, and stops at the corner to look back at her. He clears his throat again, “You coming?” he asks.

               “Yes,” Vex answers, mimicking his tone. It possible he doesn’t notice her quip, but there’s the faintest glimmer in his eye that suggests it’s not likely. She shrugs out of her surcoat too and trails after Percy. He waits and then walks shoulder to shoulder with her, despite the halls being somewhat narrow for that sort of thing. They bump into one another as the ship sways, but Vex isn’t bothered by it. Percy certainly doesn’t say anything about it.

               For the second time that day they make their way into the mess hall. This time it isn’t empty. There’s still no cooking fire going, but there are plenty of lanterns to illuminate the room. Several men are laid out on tables, being treated for various injuries. Presumably they had been hurt when the starboard channel had been damaged. The able-bodied look up as Percy and Vex enter. There is a surprisingly loud chorus of hellos. Vex in particular is well received, and two men beckon her over to their patient. She recognizes him as the fellow who took a spill overboard. His forehead has been stitched, and some color and warmth has returned to his face.

               Sit down, the crew says. Put aside your wet things, the crew says. Wait for the storm to pass, and share a drink with us once it does, the crew says. Vex nods when they speak, and does as they suggest. She chats idly in return, still a little dazed by the immensity of the storm. All the while she watches Percy from the corner of her eye. He steals glances at her when he thinks she’s not looking. Each one leaves Vex feeling a little less cold, and a little more alive. After the fourth glance, Vex looks over and catches his gaze. Percy does not startle, does not look away, only smiles and holds her gaze a moment. It sends a small storm of emotions awhirl in Vex’s chest. She looks down at her hands as they re-weave her braid. In the back of her mind, a small voice whispers ‘ _ oh _ ’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen guys. I love storms.


	19. Day-Drink For Your Health

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Left a little shell-shocked by the storm, Vex and Percy are coaxed back to warmth and health by strong drinks and enthusiastic company.

               Vex has no idea how much time it takes for The Broken Howl to stop pitching and swaying. The passage of time stops its usual habit of leaving mental markers in her mind, and trundles along down a nondescript path that leaves her disoriented. Additionally, Vex isn’t sure if the airship escapes the storm, or if the storm itself merely leaves them behind. She supposes it doesn’t really matter. What matters is the fellow she helped pull back onto the ship is doing well with the exception of some stitches and a sharp headache. Vex is careful to speak in a moderate tone near him, sympathetic to his plight after having spent her recent days nursing similar injuries. A few other people in the mess hall are sporting smaller pains, bumps, and bruises. They’re all the result of the splintering channel… but the storm had come and gone without leaving any serious injuries.

               With the danger safely behind them, and business as usual continuing above the deck, the crew has no qualms speaking about the onset of the storm. It had apparently appeared with breathtaking swiftness, developing at a rate that must’ve been spurred on with magic. None of them had caught a whiff of magic beforehand, and the conjuration of the storm had blindsided them all. Pike had acted quickly enough to buy her crew time to prepare and secure their lifelines, but at the cost of mistiming a strike of lightning. Everyone is eager to explain that things could have been much worse had their fearless leader not acted as she did.

               Vex listens while swimming around in a mental fog. It seems like people are speaking around her, but not to her. She feels dazed and incredibly small. The memory of the storm still thunders in her mind, and the quick glances Percy keeps shooting her don’t help her pay any sort of attention to what’s being said. He’s standing near the wall by the metal stove, warming his hands. Vex doesn’t feel quite up to standing at the moment, otherwise she might join him.

               Unexpectedly, a flagon of ale is planted between her hands. Vex startles and looks up into Scanlan’s blinding grin. His hair is damp and mussed, but somehow still maintains the appearance of purposeful styling.

               “A drink for the big damn hero!” Scanlan says loudly, and he is reinforced by a chorus of cheers. Vex blinks. She opens her mouth to speak. Closes it. Opens it again.

               “Good, now do that again, only try picking up the drink and putting it in your mouth this time,” Scanlan encourages. Vex’s hands instinctively wrap around the flagon, but she doesn’t quite manage to pick up the drink. She feels small and lost, and with everyone speaking around her she’s having trouble finding a single thing to focus on. Scanlan’s smile twitches. Scanlan, so diminutive and small and anything  _ but _ that. Scanlan somehow managing to fill up the entire room with that confidence and bravado. Vex focuses on him. She can see the lines at the corners of his bright and attentive eyes. She can read the concern there. He’s worried. Vex recognizes this numbly, and wonders what he could possibly be worried about. Sunlight is starting to stream in through the portholes. Nobody is hurt. The storm is gone. The danger is gone.

               “Vex,” Scanlan says quietly. He speaks so softly. He’s so small. Vex imagines him up in the crow’s nest at the mercy of a massive storm. Does his personality save him up there? Does he have enough bravado to face down a storm without a lick of fear in his heart? “Hey, I need you to breathe deeply. Five count in, eight count out, and none of that upper-chest breathing. Feel it in your gut.”

               She’s short of breath. Vex didn’t realize it until Scanlan’s words, but she carefully does as she’s instructed. The breathing helps clear her head a little. The haze left by the storm recedes somewhat.

               “Right,” she says on a long exhale, and looks down to see her hands shaking. She tightens her fingers around the flagon to steady them.

               “Have a drink, it’ll warm you up,” Scanlan encourages, “And keep breathing,” he adds after a beat. Vex nods and does as she’s told. The alcohol in the flagon is  _ strong. _ It hits her like a fist of molten metal against her sternum. She gags and pulls a face as she shakes her head, but she feels  _ awake _ and  _ present. _ She takes a breath and scrapes her tongue along her teeth to try and get rid of the taste of… Vex doesn’t actually recognize the liquor, but it’s certainly potent. After a brief pause she takes another swig for good measure and starts to feel more like herself again.

               “Thanks,” she says to Scanlan through a grimace, coughing a little. The gnome flashes her a bright smile from behind his own drink.

               “No problem. We call that being Thunderstruck, by the way. It happens to lots of people after they first face a storm head on,” he says casually. Vex nods and takes another drink. She gets the feeling it wasn’t  _ just _ the storm. She’d been putting off confronting… well, everything for the last few days. Magic. Teleporting candles. People who could conjure fire to their fingertips. Fallen stars with too much sass to be healthy. Just one of those things should be enough to give someone pause. All of them together, combined with the massive scale of the storm certainly would have an effect on the mind.

               “It was huge,” Vex says into her flagon, still deeply distracted by thought, but successfully extracted from her mental haze. 

               “What was huge?” Scanlan asks, waggling his eyebrows suggestively at her. Vex chokes a little as she swallows, and swats his shoulder. A laugh bubbles up in her chest.

               “The  _ storm!” _ she clarifies. “Do you  _ always _ do that?” Scanlan winks at her.

               “No, not always. I have impeccable and deliberate comedic timing.” He’s serious, Vex realizes. He’s joking around to help her relax after being struck numb. She glances down at her drink, a little embarrassed.

               “Thanks,” she says again, quieter this time.

               “I said before it’s no problem. First storm hits you the hardest, and I’d say you did pretty good! Not everyone can brag about saving someone during their first ride. Nice work.” He says cheerfully. Vex feels warm with the compliment and with the drink. The smile still lingers on her face.

               “How about you in that crow’s nest though? You’re all the way up there in a storm and I can still hear you shouting directions! It’s amazing.” Vex offers back. Scanlan places a hand over his chest in a gesture of modestly, though his expression and tone is anything but.

               “Why, I’m a performer at heart. Really it’s all about,” and he raises a cupped hand to his mouth like a speaking cone, “projection and enunciation!” The three words come out surprisingly loud, and Vex finds herself giggling uncontrollably at them. Scanlan grins at her reaction, “I think maybe you’ve had enough of that drink.”

               “I think the exact opposite is true,” Vex counters. 

               “I agree!” Grog appears at her shoulder.

               “It’s daytime, do you really want to--” Scanlan starts to reason, but is sharply cut off by a decisive,

               “Yes,” from Grog. Vex hiccups and raises her flagon. She turns her gaze to Percy. His hair has dried in a mess, his skin is pale but his nose and cheeks are a little pink. His shirt has dried and looks warm and crisp, but is crisscrossed with sharp wrinkles. The heat of the metal stove illuminates him with a soft, white glow, and if Vex hadn’t been tipsy she might have realized that didn’t make much sense. He gives her a little smile, which vanishes when she beckons him over.

               “Percy!” she calls, “Come have a drink with us!” 

               Percy hesitates, but steps away from the stove. The warm glow leaves his features as he approaches Vex, Scanlan, and Grog with a bit of uncertainty. 

               “I’m not sure I should…” Percy starts, but trails off as Grog slams a tankard down in front of him and starts chanting ‘drink’ over and over again. Percy’s resolve fails as soon as other crew members join in the chant with gusto. He takes a quick drink, makes a face, and then sets down the flagon.

               “Percy,” Vex says, drawling out his name as long as she can manage, “you can do better than that!” she takes up her own glass and drains half of what is remaining.

               “Are we really getting day-drunk right now?” Percy asks, turning his attention to Scanlan. Vex swings her head toward the gnome and watches his expression intently. His eyes flicker briefly to her, and she can see the smile in them even if the rest of his expression is passive. Scanlan shrugs, then lifts his own drink and downs it in one fell swoop. He gives a satisfied ‘ahh’ after slamming the empty mug down and beams blindingly at Percy.

               “Yes,” he answers. Percy presses his lips together.

               “Come on darling!” Vex goads, leaning toward him and grinning. “We’ve earned a day-drink I think!” She only slurs the words a little, and grins at the rhyme. Percy looks at her, one brow raised, expression unreadable. Without dropping that mask for an instant, he picks up his drink, and takes another sizeable gulp. Vex cheers enthusiastically, and returns to her drink with gusto.

               Vex has never been day drunk. In fact, she’s hardly been drunk at any hour of the day. Even respectable ones... if there is ever a respectable hour to be intoxicated. One reason for that is money. Drunk is an expensive state to achieve, and while Vex and Vax were not exactly paupers in Syngorn, that didn’t mean they had an excess of money to spend on spirits. Another reason was company. Vex had enjoyed a drink with her brother once or twice, but for the most part there was no friendly company in Syngorn; and that is something you sorely need when succumbing to the vulnerability of intoxication. Vex rarely touched a drink in her home because she feared constantly that someone would come knocking, and her wits would not be about to defend her. 

               Things are different here. Vex doesn’t think about it because she’s too busy laughing. She’s too preoccupied with the warm buzz in her mind to think of such melancholy comparisons. It does not come to mind that she is more at home here in a strange land with strange people, than the city with her lifelong acquaintances and father. Instead she simply knows she wants a drink, and feels comfortable having one. Or two. Or perhaps three if everyone else is still drinking. 

               Vex doesn’t think of anything consequential. She doesn’t worry about magic or murderers or missing siblings. Instead she enjoys the tingling numbness in her cheeks and the tips of her pointed ears. She leans heavily on Scanlan and Grog and the table in unmeasured intervals depending on which way the winds of conversation take her. At some point she finds herself squinting at Percy through his spectacles and wondering distantly how they came to be perched upon her face instead of his. She quickly loses interest in that train of thought, and instead simply returns them to their proper owner. Percy.

               “Percy,” Vex says, and then pauses to make sure she actually said it out loud. Percy, whose face is still wreathed by her fingertips after replacing his glasses, blinks.

               “Yes?” he asks after a beat of uncertain silence. Reassured that she had in fact spoken aloud, Vex continues.

               “Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Kowolski De Rolo?” The name is a messy slur of vowels and consonants, and on top of being nigh unintelligible as a name, is also unidentifiable as either a question or a statement. Percy doesn’t seem upset by any of this. He smiles.

               “That was very close,” he says, “Well done.”

“Thank you,” Vex says, momentarily forgetting herself as she grins. Her expression becomes a touch more serious as she remembers her initial intentions. “Percival. Per-ci-val. Can I call you Percy? Is it  _ okay _ if I call you Percy?”

               Percy seems a little surprised by the question, and it shows plainly on his face. He takes a beat to think about it.

               “I doubt I could stop you, even if I wanted,” he says finally, his smile a little lopsided this time. That answer is entirely unhelpful to Vex who blows out her frustration in a raspberry.

               “But is it  _ okay _ if I  _ call you _ … Percy?” she repeats insistently, although her forceful tone falters some as she says his name. It’s important. For some reason it’s important. The smile on Percy’s face goes away, and he schools his expression into one of seriousness. He raises his hands to Vex’s, which are still cupped on either side of his face. There are callouses on his fingers and palms. Vex hadn’t noticed before, but she can feel them against the backs of her hands now. 

               “Yes. It’s alright for you to call me Percy,” he says gently. Vex lets out a breath of relief.

               “Alright good! And while we’re on this topic, you can call me--”

               “--Vex!” Grog’s voice breaks Vex’s attention immediately and she swings her head around to face him without hesitation. He’s relocated to a different table with a smattering of other crew members. How long has Vex been sitting alone with Percy?

               “Yes?” she asks.

               “Arm wrestle me!” he says enthusiastically. There’s a solid four or five seconds of silence that Vex takes to simply stare at the massive behemoth of a man in front of her. Ordinarily those four or five seconds would be spent calculating risks and trying to decide how to explain why that activity was not a particularly favorable one for her. Ordinarily Vex was not drunk. This was not ordinarily. So instead Vex stares blankly at Grog for four or five seconds of zero thought whatsoever before repeating,

               “Yes.”

               As Vex stands, her hands start to slide out from underneath Percy’s. He lets his grip go slack as she pulls away. Vex does the opposite, wrapping her hands around his and pulling him along. Percy realizes it almost too late to keep himself from planting his face on the table, but manages to stagger gracelessly after Vex without falling.

               The arm wrestling against Grog goes about as well as can be expected for Vex, which is to say he lets her win once and then beats her with ease every other time. Vex, not disheartened in the least, continues to arm wrestle anyone who will take her hand. She loses more often than not, but doesn’t bother keeping track. Especially not after looking to her left and seeing Percy engaging in the sport a little himself. This causes her to lose her game immediately. In turn that distracts Percy into losing his match, which prompts both of them into a round of laughter.

               An indeterminate amount of time passes with carefree quickness. With exhaustion gnawing at her sobering mind, Vex finds herself drowsily inspecting the wood grain of the table. She trails her fingertips along the prominent grooves as they carve temporary valleys into her cheek. Her thoughts drift as listlessly as her gaze until both of them land on Percy. 

               He’s slumped over with his head mostly buried by the tangled pillow of his arms. The mess hall has fallen relatively quiet, which has allowed Percy to fall asleep. His sleeves have crept up along his arms. Like the wood grain of the table, his flesh is marked with lines that peek out from beneath the cloth. Vex’s curious fingers almost find their way to the scars, but stop and hover instead. Vex’s eyes dart toward Percy’s, which flutter back and forth beneath closed lids. His breath comes a little too quick for the calm rhythm of pleasant sleep. Vex is no stranger to the perils of dreams. She briefly considers waking him, but decides against it. If Percy is half as exhausted as she is, he’d take even an imperfect rest over wakefulness.

               Vex tugs his sleeves down over the scars as best she can, and rests her hand over the cuff. It remains there, laying protectively over his pulse until she feels it slow into a calmer rhythm. Satisfied, Vex closes her eyes, and lets the constant hum of Percy’s heart lull her into sleep.


	20. The Most Important Meal of The Day

               Vex wakes up vividly aware of aching muscles and joints… and once again of her pounding head. It had been nice yesterday to wake up without a headache… although she supposes she earned this one. Vex groans and puts a palm to her temple as she gingerly pushes off of the table. The soft flesh of her cheek peels off of the coarse wood-grain, and Vex knows it will be imprinted on her face for a few minutes. It is the least of her worries. 

               “You know… we have beds where you two can sleep,” Pike speaks gently in a half whisper. Vex starts a little, blinking rapidly to clear her vision and take in her surroundings. She’s still in the mess hall. It’s empty now except for herself, Pike, and Percy. There’s no light creeping into the circular porthole windows, so either it’s incredibly late or incredibly early. Between the storm, the day-drinking, and the resulting headache, Vex has lost all grasp on time and is unable to retrieve it.

               “Oh I don’t know,” Vex answers quietly, wincing even at her own hushed words as they send a patter of unhappy alarm bells through her skull. “Who needs a bed when you’ve got crows nests, and tables?” Vex tries to smile but it turns out more like a grimace. Pike chuckles and pushes a glass of water across the table and into Vex’s hand.

               “Well, if you ever get tired of tables and hard wooden floors, there’s some space for you in my cabin. You can sleep in the crew's quarters if you like, but if we’re keeping up the whole nephew-and-friend ruse it might be best if you two sleep in my cabin,” Pike suggests. Vex takes a long drink of water while the sky captain speaks.

               “Why the ruse, by the way?” Vex asks, suddenly curious. Pike blinks, furrowing her brow questioningly. “I mean, your crew clearly adores you. And I’ve only spent time with Grog and Scanlan, but they seem like decent people. Why the need to lie about Percy being related to you?” Pike gives a sad little smile.

               “It’s mostly about keeping up appearances I guess,” she says with a slow shrug. “The Trickfoot line is… well, let’s just say my family doesn’t have an upright or moral reputation. And that reputation helps keep my crew in line, and cautions other people not to mess with us.” Vex frowns at Pike through her glass as she drains it empty.

               “Your crew. Loves you.” Vex repeats emphatically. “They don’t seem like the type of vagabonds that need to be kept in line with an iron fist. The whole ‘Trickfoot Charade’ seems unnecessary.” Pike leans back a little, stretching her arms in front of her so that her plated metal coat clinks together softly.

               “Maybe you’re right,” Pike says with a bit of a bashful smile, “But at this point, I think keeping up appearances benefits both parties.” Vex looks down at the glass in her hands and runs her thumbs around the rim. She’s quiet for a moment as she nods. She understands keeping up appearances. She doesn’t understand why Pike thinks it’s necessary. But then again, Vax never understood  _ her _ desire to fit in with the other nobles at Syngorn. Maybe it’s like that.

               “What time is it?” Vex asks finally after the silence becomes unbearable.

               “Very early,” Pike says, clearly relieved for the change in topic. “Morning crew won’t be awake for another hour or so.”

               “Any surprise storms on the menu for breakfast?” Vex asks. Pike laughs quietly.

               “No, not today. We’re steering clear of storms until we can fix that channel. It’ll take us a day or two, but after that we’ll be back to storm chasing,” Pike explains. “In the meantime, we’ll have time to train you and Percy into useful deckhands.”

               “You mean there’s more to the process than dragging people back onto the ship?” Vex asks with faux astonishment. Pike grins.

               “Just a bit,” she replies, and then her grin falters a little. Her expression sobers and her eyes gain a weight and seriousness. “Thanks for that by the way. It’s been a long time since we’ve lost a soul overboard, and I’m glad I can still say that.”

               Vex taps her fingers rapidly against the empty glass and shrugs. For some reason she can’t quite meet Pike’s eye. That reason certainly isn’t the heat that burns faintly in her cheeks and heart. 

               “I didn’t save him all by myself, I had help. And if I hadn’t been there, I’m sure your crew would’ve been on the job,” she says nonchalantly, and waves a hand dismissively.

               “When we rely on other people to do what’s right, it rarely gets done. Terrible things happen because terrible people do them, or because good people stand idle,” Pike says solemnly. There’s a gravity and truth to her words that lends clarity to Vex’s thoughts.

               “Is that what Sarenrae believes? Is that why you’re helping us?” Vex asks, looking into Pike’s clear blue eyes, searching for answers. The gnome smiles, and a flicker of mischief replaces the seriousness in her expression.

               “Is that why  _ you’re _ helping him?” Pike asks, turning Vex’s question around and tilting her head toward Percy. Vex follows her gesture to watch the sleeping Star for a heartbeat. Percy had recently asked her something similar.

               “Yes,” Vex says, and is surprised by the certainty in her voice.

               “How long have you known him?” Pike asks, and there’s a knowing tone in her words that makes Vex shift with anxious trepidation. She manages to convincingly play off the motion by crossing her legs and tugging at her sleeves.

               “Long enough,” she answers evasively, unable to keep the slightly defensive tone out of her voice. Pike gives a little shrug and raises a disarming hand.

               “I’ve traveled all over, and have met all different kinds of people. In my experience, first impressions are often wrong..” Pike trails off for a moment and ducks her head to catch Vex’s gaze which has dropped to the table. Vex blinks away memories of her first impressions of Percival, Pike, Grog, and Scanlan, and refocuses on the diminutive sky captain. “...but if we are patient, and keen, the true nature of a person quickly shines through our initial misconceptions.”

               Vex hums a gentle, non-committal laugh because she isn’t sure how to respond. Her eyes drift back to Percy. Before she can say anything, her stomach growls audibly. Vex looks down at it, startled by the noise. Had she eaten the night before? She remembers quite a lot of drinking, but not eating. It’s possible she’s missed one or two meals.

               Pike chuckles and taps her knuckles gently on the table,

               “Wake him up and we’ll see about getting you two something to eat. There’s a busy day ahead of you,” she says and then hops off of her seat and walks toward the crates of stored food. Vex slowly pushes herself to her feet. She hesitates, and then puts a hand on Percival’s shoulder to shake him gently.

               “Pe--” her words falter when she looks from her hand on his shoulder, to his face. His eyes are open and fixed on her. “--rcy, oh you’re awake,” Vex finishes haltingly. Had he woken up that fast? Or had he been awake already… listening? Vex quickly removes her hand from his shoulder and twists her fingers in her hair--which she realizes, too late, is a tangled mess. “We’re getting food, and you should drink some water,” she says, words quick and quiet.

               “Alright,” Percy answers. He slowly lifts his head with a groan, and rubs his face with both hands. His spectacles, which were already askew, are pushed even further out of alignment. Percy runs his hands through his own tangled and mussed hair, and then kneads at the back of his neck and shoulders while his head droops low over the table. “Give me a moment, I’ll be along,” he assures, and Vex can hear the wince in his words.

               Vex nods and is following after Pike before she realizes he probably hadn’t seen the gesture. She stands near Pike, who is already busy chopping and mixing and starting some sort of meal. 

               “There’s dry food you can snack on for now,” Pike offers with a gesture. Vex follows it to a segmented box filled with different sorts of perish-resistant foods. She selects a pouch of dried fruit and nibbles at it before returning to hover around the gnome captain. She’s about to say something when Percy’s voice sounds weakly in her ear, causing her to give a slight start.

               “Can we help?” Percy asks.

               “I was gonna make and serve it to you both on just this one occasion, for saving one of my crew,” Pike says, glancing over her shoulder. Vex is about to shake her head and say that isn’t necessary, but Percy beats her to it.

               “Put that one on our tab, I think now is as good a time as any to start pulling our weight.”

               “Not that that’s very much weight to be pulling,” Vex adds with a wry laugh, and a glance at herself and Percy. They both look a little pathetic, half dressed with ratty hair and sleep-heavy eyes, and not particularly muscled. Pike is four feet tall and puts them both to shame. Vex is sure that if she wore that metal-plated coat for more than ten minutes, she’d be breathing heavy just walking down the hall. But here’s Pike, just past Vex’s waist, trotting around in it like it’s a lace gown. A very  _ loud _ lace gown, mind you, but a lace gown nonetheless.

               “Every little bit helps,” Pike says with a chuckle.

               “Yes,” Percy agrees. From the corner of her eye, Vex sees Percy glance at her.

               “In that case, we’ll get breakfast for the whole crew started, and you can eat with them this morning,” Pike declares. She then falls into giving Vex and Percy orders as they chop, dice, adjust proportions, and deliver ingredients. Pike, for all her merits as a sky captain, could very well be a head chef in a successful restaurant.

               As they work, light begins to slowly filter into the mess hall through the windows. And like that steady stream of sunlight, crew members start to trickle into the hall as well. The first few to arrive immediately start helping Vex and Percy prepare food. By the time a larger crowd is present, the both of them are serving dishes to hungry, tired, and in some cases, hungover, deck hands. 

               Vex and Percy hadn’t talked much while being directed by Pike. Preparing food while still half asleep and hungover required an awful lot of concentration. But by the time they’re sharing breakfast in the noisy mess hall, both are awake and feeling energetic if not a little sore. Vex listens to Percy talk fondly about busy breakfasts in loud, crowded dinner halls. 

               “Unless there’s company over--and really even then a bit too, because when you’re just waking up propriety tends to go out the window no matter what your rank and station are--the first meal is when everyone can just relax. Nobody is properly awake or corporeal yet, and you all just bond over coffee and how much or how little sleep you got,” Percy explains. He has his head propped up on one hand, and a mug of hot coffee nestled in his other. So Stars have coffee on the Astral Plane. Good to know.

               “Breakfasts were always quiet at home. But they’re my favorite too. I never saw Vax during the day for lunch, and we never really got home at the same time for supper. Breakfast was the only time I was sure to share a meal with him,” Vex says. There’s a moment where their eyes meet as Vex is about to take a bite of food and Percy a sip of coffee. For a second there’s a tremble of sadness in Vex’s heart. A terrible longing and loneliness in missing her brother and the familiar comforts of home. The feeling swells like a slow-growing wave in the ocean, and threatens to crest and break the gentle warmth of the morning with bitter cold sorrow. Vex can see the same feeling in Percy’s eyes. But before the wave crests, there’s a burst of laughter around them both. The sudden noise makes Percy twitch enough that his coffee sloshes a little down the side of his mug. They both glance as the droplet travels down the ceramic and then drops onto the table.

               And just like that, the threat of sorrow is gone. The wave does not break, only subsides and continues to roll gently through the water. Vex and Percy exchange smiles and quietly continue their breakfast in good spirits. At some point a cluster of crew members mention repairing the broken channel, and Percy perks up immediately. He looks over at them and listens intently for a moment. Vex means to pay attention to what they say, but she gets distracted watching the little crows feet appear at corners of Percy’s eyes as a smile touches his lips.

               “I can help with that,” Percy chimes in, breaking Vex from her reverie. She and the crew members share a surprised glance and Percy adjusts his glasses expertly. “I promise I know what I’m doing and won’t fall to my death,” he says with a wry smile. The mottled group of men look toward Vex seeking some sort of confirmation. She had been about to comment on Percy’s joke, but seeing the group of men look to her for some sort of confirmation, she shrugs instead.

               “He irritates me by being a bit of a know-it-all sometimes, but there’s a reason he gets away with it,” she says. It’s an elusive non-answer. She doesn’t know how much Percy knows about repairing airships, but if he says he can help, then why not back him up? It seems to be enough to convince the group, and they mirror Vex’s shrug and then beckon Percy with a,

               “Well come on then,” before departing. Percy pushes himself to his feet, but pauses long enough to give Vex a little smile.

               “Thanks for vouching for me,” he says quietly, stepping around his chair. She smiles back, full of food and morning warmth.

               “Just don’t make me regret it,” she says with a wink. Percy stretches his arms, and cracks his fingers.

               “I won’t,” he says with easy certainty, and then follows the deckhands. 

               Vex watches him leave, and doesn’t notice at all when Scanlan walks up beside her. He follows her gaze after the Star, and then looks back up at Vex with a quirked brow.

               “Ready to learn how to be a sailor?” he asks brightly, and perhaps at greater volume than was necessary. Vex jumps a little, startled out of her musing, and looks down at Scanlan. He winks at her and then jabs a thumb over his shoulder. “Or do you want to do some more dreaming staring?”

               Vex pushes Scanlan’s shoulder a little and laughs.

               “I don't know _what_ you're talking about. But I'm definitely ready to learn how to be a sailor,” she says, and stands. She briskly tugs her sleeves and claps her hands together. “Lead the way!”


	21. The View's Not Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vex learns a thing or two, and enjoys a view of/with percy.

 

               The day passes in a blur. Scanlan teaches Vex a dozen different knots, several of which she suspects are not meant for sailing at all. Not that that bothers her very much. Knowledge is knowledge… and you never know when these things might come in handy. So she learns how to tie rope and finds peace of mind in the repetitive task. Scanlan is an enthusiastic and interesting teacher, and Vex finds that the conversational sparring Scanlan keeps up with her is just as relaxing as working with the rope. He has an arsenal of innuendos to accompany the lesson for teaching Vex how to tie a ‘swirly whirly’ knot, which, ironically enough, is apparently an actual knot used on sky vessels and not in the bedroom. 

               Scanlan gives a tour of the deck that’s more practical and detailed than Pike’s initial introduction. He explains how to release the lightning nets, how the channels direct and divert the energy where they want it to go. He shows Vex how to handle the heavy hoses that were jumping with lighting the previous night, and how to lock them into the ports along the deck of the ship. He shows her how to secure a lifeline, teaches her what phrases to yell for help, or in warning. He shows her where to take cover in case things go wrong, and explains that the metal netting that extends to the crow's nest is a safety precaution to keep deckhands safe from rogue bolts of lightning.

               The day is mild and the warmth of the sun offsets the briskness of the high-altitude air. It’s past noon before Percival and the group of workers haul themselves back onto the ship with all of their tools.  Percy is noticeably shirtless, and Vex isn’t shy about looking at him. His chest and arms are crossed with scars, some of them erratic and jagged like the natural scars of accidents and wounds. Others are clean, precise, almost surgical, and they make Vex’s stomach twist. The coiling rage and discomfort caused by the signs of hurt are somewhat placated by the taut muscles that glisten with sweat and condensation from passing clouds. Percy and his group wash the grime from their skin with rags and a bucket of water. There’s an air of camaraderie about them that hadn’t been present before. It seems Percy has proved his worth to them. 

               “Oi! Shirtless, white-haired-boy!” Scanlan calls loudly from beside Vex, startling her out of her brief, appreciative reverie. Percy turns a deadpan, unamused expression toward Scanlan, a single brow raised in his direction. He looks so disdainful that Vex actually laughs, folding her arms in front of her and shaking her head. Percy looks over at her, and Vex thinks she sees the faintest hint of a smile touch his expression.

               “What?” Percy asks, and apparently becomes conscious of his bare chest because he pulls his shirt from where it’s tucked into his waistband, and hurriedly pulls it over his head. It clings to him a little since he hasn’t fully dried after his quick wash. No doubt it’s irritating and mildly uncomfortable, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he’s just good at playing off his discomfort.

               “What, what?” Scanlan says, rolling his eyes, “Come here, obviously!”Percy hesitates, arms folded tightly across his chest, eyes narrowed. His gaze flickers to Vex and she smiles, shrugging at him. He sighs visibly, adjusts his glasses, and then leaves his new group of friends to join Vex and Scanlan.

               “Here I am,” he declares, looking over his glasses down at Scanlan.

               “Yes, well done,” the gnome praises, voice pitched into a playful taunt. He turns on his heel to face Vex and points at her. “Now you!” his finger swings toward Percy, “Teach him what I just taught you!”

               Vex blinks and makes a startled noise of protest. From the corner of her eye she can see Percy’s smile.

               “But--” Vex starts, but Scanlan silences her by pointing his finger back in her direction.

               “The best way to know if you’ve learned something is to try and teach it! Also I’m a firm believer in efficiency, especially when it means I have to do less work,” he says, and winks at her. Vex presses her mouth together in a thin-lipped frown, but the expression doesn’t last long. Scanlan might be motivated by laziness, but he’s not wrong. She props her fists on her hips and looks down at him,

               “Alright,” she says, a determined, confident smile tugging at her lips, “Tell me if I get anything wrong.” Scanlan just gives her a maddeningly demure smile.

               “I will,” he states brightly, and gestures for her to continue. Vex gives a small huff and looks sharply to Percy, who has been carefully watching this brief exchange. He gives her a curious look, and doesn’t seem to know what to say so instead he gives her a little nod.

               It’s the only encouragement Vex needs. She walks Percy across the deck of the ship and explains each component. She doesn’t know exactly how everything works, but she knows the basics and how to handle things safely. She speaks as confidently as she can, pointing to what she’s talking about, and watching Scanlan out of the corner of her eye for any indication as to how she’s doing. Once or twice she falters on a name, or whether you were supposed to lock something in by turning the knob to the left or to the right. Scanlan keeps his face impassive, but carefully nudges her toward the correct answer each time. 

               Percy is an astute listener, although Vex suspects he already knows most of what she’s explains to him. As she points to the metal netting she catches a gleam in his eyes, and knows he’s intuiting. She can see the gears whirring in his mind, and can trace his line of thought by following his gaze as it jumps along the cables to where they’re affixed. She wonders what he’s searching for, and whether or not it’s there...

               “--only I can’t remember what they’re made of. Scanlan told me,” Vex hears herself trailing off, and she has to blink rapidly to return to her senses. Percy looks away from the netting and toward Vex just as she turns to ask Scanlan for the information she failed to retain. She can feel his eyes studying her with the same curiosity and intuition. She might’ve been distracted by it if it hadn’t become immediately apparent that Scanlan was nowhere to be found. “Scanlan?” Vex asks, startled by the gnome’s sudden disappearance.

               A quick search of the deck does not reveal Scanlan anywhere.

               “How did he manage to sneak off? I swear he was just biting at my ankles a second ago,” Percy says, just as surprised as Vex. She swats his arm for the short-joke. Percy brushes her off, and grins ruefully, “What?”

               “Don’t be an ass,” Vex says flatly. Percy’s grin disappears and he suddenly looks uncertain and slightly abashed. The expression is quickly whisked underneath a neutral mask.

               “Aluminum and copper,” he says, looking away from Vex.

               “Pardon?”

               “It’s what I’d guess the netting is made out of,” Percy clarifies with a shrug. He sticks his hands in his pockets and nods toward where the net is embedded in the railing. “The wire goes there and, presumably, into a ground.” Percy risks a glance at Vex, and she can tell he’s searching for safe footing. “Not the  _ actual _ ground of course. A ground is a way to protect people from getting electrocuted. Basically it gives the lightning someplace safe to go and get discharged. I wouldn’t be surprised if they collected that too.”

               “That solves one mystery, but still leaves us with a missing gnome. I don’t understand how he snuck away,” Vex reiterates. She casts her gaze around the ship. Things seem to be business as usual aside from the apparent absence of their tutor. “He’s just as quiet as my brother.”

               “I’m not overly concerned with what he does… but this does present us with the opportunity to relax a bit,” Percy says conspiratorially. 

               Vex perks up at that. She looks over at Percy and grins. There must be a twinkle in her eye that catches his interest because one of his eyebrows quirks upward ever so slightly. 

               “I’m all ears if you have any suggestions” Vex says, the tips of her pointed ears twitching slightly as she speaks. Percy presses his lips together as he smiles, shaking his head with faux disapproval at her little joke. 

               “Not much to do on a ship like this in terms of recreation unless it’s drinking, gambling, or sightseeing,” Percy remarks, propping his hands on his hips as he surveys the deck around them.

               “Lucky for us, I’m a fan of all three,” Vex says, “and I think you missed one obvious activity.” 

               That makes Percy pause. Vex watches him and finds herself quite enamored with the look in his eyes as the complex machinery of his mind whirrs away. He’s a bit like a clock, she decides: carefully calibrated, put together with precision… and easy to knock off kilter. She notes the latter when realization finally  _ clicks _ into place and a faint blush creeps up the back of his neck.

               “Ah yes,” Percy says, and adjusts his glasses matter of fact. Like he’s resetting the swinging pendulum in the heart of the clock. “Of course there’s that,” he says, and smiles a little but does not look Vex in the eye as he does. It doesn’t feel like he’s avoiding her gaze, but she’s also sure it’s not a coincidence he doesn’t glance her way.

               “It’s a little early to start drinking, and I’m afraid I have precious little to gamble with at the moment,” Vex says, and it’s a joke but the truth of it sends a pang of fear and regret through her chest. All of her savings had been squirreled away in the backpack she had abandoned in order to save Percy. She’s not entirely sure about that exchange yet. It’s promising so far, but…

               “I’m in the same boat on that account,” Percy remarks, and gives her a pointed look. Vex blinks before realizing they are literally and figuratively in the same boat. She scoffs out a laugh and elbows him. She lets the motion carry her into looping her arm around his so she can pull him along. He seems a little startled by the contact, but does not immediately pull away.

               “Let’s sight-see,” she says and together they approach the railing. The wind tosses their hair, and Vex briefly closes her eyes to savor the sensation. She’s briefly struck with that feeling of freedom, and it fills her lungs with the next inhale--though it leaves her just as quickly. She feels Percy’s arm--which thus far has only been loosely hooked with her own, almost tentative with the contact--tense and pull her closer. Only then does Vex realize that she’s leaning over the rail at an angle that is, perhaps, beyond wisdom. 

               “You promised me you’d get at least two more feathers before you tried flying again,” Percy points out. Vex chuckles and pulls away from the edge.

               “I did, didn’t I?” she asks, and contents herself to look out across the sprawling landscape below without leaning too far out over it. She’s still hundreds of feet in the air soaring across a magical land. That’s more freedom than she’s ever experienced before.

               There’s a silence that passes between them that is not like silence at all. It has none of the cool emptiness of the silence that frequently accompanies Syldor. It is not the wordless, keen, and sympathetic silence that Gilmore uses to sneak occasional glances at her. And Vax, though she loves him, brings a gentle concern along with his silence, almost too stealthy to be detected… but she’s his twin sister.

               Percy’s silence is simply… quiet. He is warm at her side, a buffer between Vex and the wind. For the moment he does not study her, simply looks out at the drifting clouds, and down to the expanse of rolling green hills and scattered trees below them.He looks peaceful, and the sunlight seems to cling to him.

               Percy notices her gaze and looks over. Vex realizes very suddenly that perhaps her silence had not been as quiet as she intended.

               “You probably had a better view as a Star up there,” she says after a beat of hesitation, and gestures to the sky. Percy follows her gesture and looks up. He shrugs a little.

               “I did, but this is nearly as good,” he says, “Company is better down here though,” he adds after a moment. That makes Vex miss a beat, and it’s her turn to founder for words. She smiles, but it fades as the statement sinks in. He was all alone up in the Astral Plane, with no family to speak of. How lonely it must have been. Vex cannot imagine a scenario like that. The back of her heart still aches missing Vax, but there is a certainty in her mind that she will reunite with him. Nothing could keep them apart for long. It’s the way things have always been. The way it must always be. But if something were to happen? If she had to go on alone? Vex isn’t sure she could bear it.

               “Percy, what was the rest of your family like?” Vex asks, and she feels him tense at her side. “The good things,” she clarifies. “Like… Vax feels everything with every  _ fiber _ of his soul. And he calls me ‘Stubby’ because he’s a fraction of an inch taller.”

               Percy doesn’t answer for such a long time that Vex is almost afraid he will leave. But eventually he takes a breath.

               “Cassandra and I were the closest. She was so stubborn and strong-willed. Gods, she irritated me. But she kept me company late nights in the library and the workshop. She’d fall asleep watching me tinker, and I’d have to carry her from my workbench to her bed.” He pauses there, eyes flickering upward as though searching for stars hidden by the light of day. He lets out a breath and something in him relaxes. The faintest trace of a smile touches his lips. “She used to take my glasses and exclaim that I was blind, and that they gave her a headache. But she kept taking them. She liked wearing them, the brat.”

               “Julius was my oldest brother. He took after father quite a bit, and herded the rest of us like ducklings. Or at least he tried. He didn’t get a chance to grow into the role he saw himself in, but not for lack of trying. It irritated all of us, the way he tried to be a grown up. But we all knew he loved us. If you needed anything, you went to Julius. When he wasn’t being insufferably grown-up, he was a good brother.”

               “And Vesper, my older sister, she was more grown up than Julius. She was a natural leader, but much to the chagrin of my parents she wasn’t too keen on using that talent to be a responsible adult like Julius. She was enough of a rebel to be trouble, but knew how to toe the line when things got dodgy. If you needed any that you didn't want the grown-ups knowing about, you went to Vesper. She settled most of our sibling scuffles. She was clever. A force of nature.” 

               Percy leans forward, putting his hands on the smooth wooden rail so that he can lean his weight against it. It almost pulls Vex’s hand away, but he keeps the crook of his arm bent just enough to gently pull her with him.

               “My younger brother Oliver was inseparable from Whitney. They were troublemakers through and through. I think that’s why I slipped under the radar so much. I was a middle child, and fairly mild-mannered. Of course that isn’t to say I didn’t poke one side or the other on occasion… But Oliver and Whitney liked to play pretend. I made them dozens of toys for it. They always dreamed about adventure.”

               “Ludwig was…” Percy inhales deeply, “...young. So young and gentle. The brightest blue eyes out of all of us, almost white. He was too young to follow Oliver and Whitney around, though he tried. And Vesper and Julius loved him but they were older, they didn’t have time for him. Cass and I watched after him more than anyone else. He’d fall asleep on my lap in the library. Cass used to be jealous since she used to sit on my lap, but she used to take the pillows from my bed and lean against my chair. I always told her not to, but she never listened…”

               Percy’s voice breaks here, and he takes a rattling breath. Vex has the courtesy not to look over at him until he lifts a hand to swipe the tears from his cheeks.

               “I think I would have liked them,” Vex declares steadily, carefully looking over at Percy. To her intense relief, the faint smile on his face has grown stronger. He looks over at her.

               “Based on what I know of you so far, you’d have fit right in with all of them,” he says. A shadow passes over his face. “I miss them.”

               “Yeah,” Vex says quietly, not sure what else to say. She squeezes his arm gently.

               “I wonder if Cass… I wonder what she’s like now,” Percy says, uncertainty ringing in every syllable of his words.

               “Well, from what I saw she’s clever, strong, and determined,” Vex reassures. “And we’re going to rescue her, so there’s that.”

               “Yes…” Percy answers distantly, eyes staring beyond the horizon. He blinks after a moment, turning to look toward Vex. “What about you? Your twin brother Vax’ildan, tell me more about him?” 

               Vex smiles, tilting her head back.

               “He’s better at braiding my hair than I am. He has this sickeningly sweet crush on a mysterious man named Gilmore--suave, handsome, charming man. And he’s currently off on some adventure without me, which I’m ever so upset about but I think I’ll get over it… just so long as he comes back to me in one piece,” she finishes with a little laugh. Vex touches the feather in her hair. “He gave me this before he left.”

               Percy nods his head at the explanation.

               “I wondered why you wore that,” he admits. Vex swipes the feather from her braid, flicks it quickly under Percy’s nose, and then replaces it all in one fluid motion that causes Percy to jump.

               “Now you know!” she chimes brightly.

               “Yes, now I know,” Percy repeats, huffing out a brief laugh.

               “Oi! L--” Scanlan’s voice rings out behind the pair of them, but before he can say whatever clever quip he has prepared, Vex swings around to face him, one hand gripping the railing and acting as a pivot for the rest of her body.

               “Ye-eee-es dear?” she asks loudly, drowning him out. Scanlan is standing next to Grog, comically small by comparison and yet somehow still larger than he ought to be.

               “There’s more learning to be done! Come listen to your wise teacher!” he calls. Vex straightens herself, looking back over at Percy.

               “Break time’s over it seems,” she says, and walks toward the gnome. For a few steps she can feel Percy’s gaze prickling at the back of her neck. Her smile doesn’t fade, and despite the brisk wind, no chilled shiver dances down her spine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shhh, I know this update took forever. Shhhhh I'm sorry.


	22. Somehow Things Work Themselves Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percival and Vex'ahlia are put hard to work.

               “You’re scrawny,” Scanlan says to Vex’ahlia without preamble. Percival watches her stop like she’s hit some sort of invisible wall. He can’t see her expression since he’s still a few steps behind her, and he wonders how she’ll react to the abrupt declaration. Affronted perhaps? While not completely inaccurate, the statement was absolutely lacking in tact. And Percival didn’t see any reason for it at all.

               Vex’ahlia laughs. Interesting response, and not one Percival predicted. He still doesn’t understand how she and Scanlan developed such a friendly repertoire so quickly. Perhaps the two are like-minded in a way that Percival was not. For some reason that gnaws at his lungs a bit.

               “You’re not wrong, but you’re not exactly muscle-bound either darling,” Vex’ahlia replies. Percival stops beside her, eyes flickering curiously across her expression. First ‘dear’ and now ‘darling’? Where had these pet names come from? It is possible Vex’ahlia uses them frequently on her acquaintances, but Percival lacks the context to know for sure.

               “What are you talking about?” Scanlan asks, and flexes his little gnome arms. Grog suppresses a smirk behind Scanlan, hiding it briefly by stroking his beard. Vex’ahlia is not as subtle and laughs at him again.

               “You’re right, you’re absolutely ripped. But what’s your point?” she asks.

               “My point is that I have a job that doesn’t require muscles. But if you and Percy are going to help around on this ship, you’re gonna need to bulk up a bit,” Scanlan says, folding his arms, visibly flexing in an unimpressive display. Percival can’t help the little smile that twitches at his lips. Vex puts her hands on her hips.

               “So are you going to teach us a thing or two, maestro?” Percival asks.

               “I would, if I wasn’t incredibly busy. So Grog is going to show you some muscle… exercises, or whatever!” Scanlan says brightly. Both Percival and Vex’ahlia look toward Grog who smiles broadly down at them both.

               “Alright bring it on,” Vex’ahlia says, gesturing at Grog. “I beat you at arm wrestling last night, I can handle your work-out.”

               Percival wracks his memories of the previous evening for the image of Vex’ahlia arm-wrestling the goliath. The picture is blurry, and he can’t tell if he just made it up or if he actually recalls the moment of her ‘triumph’. Regardless he smiles at her fearless bravado. Grog makes a noise of objection and confusion.

               “I let you win,” he says very seriously.

               “Sure you did,” Vex’ahlia answers, and winks at him. Percival looks between Vex’ahlia’s wide, confident smile and Grog’s absolute consternation. There’s a moment of charged silence in which Percival can _almost_ hear the crude, misshapen gears grinding in Grog’s head.

               “She’s joking, Grog,” Scanlan supplies helpfully at last.

               “Oh!” Grog says, perking up immediately. “Right!” his demeanor changes almost immediately, “Drop and give me push-ups! This many of them!” he holds up all of his fingers.

               “Ten of them?” Percival asks, and Grog frowns at him.

               “N… no. I’m holding up two hands. Give me two push-ups. Look if you can’t even count just do as many push-ups as you can and I’ll tell you when to stop,” Grog says.

               Percival and Vex’ahlia exchange a look. For a heartbeat Percival thinks they might both burst into laughter, but Vex’ahlia gives the barest shake of her head. _Keep it together._

               “PUSH-UPS!” Grog barks loudly enough to make Percival and Vex’ahlia jump. They immediately drop to the deck and follow the command. Any stifled giggles are swiftly silenced by Grog’s decisive and indomitable orders.

               Percival and Vex’ahlia are instructed to do more than just two push-ups. The two are drilled through a dozen different exercises through the next hour or two. Percival has never committed to an official workout routine, so admittedly he _does_ actually learn a few things. But the most interesting thing he learns isn’t about exercising. It’s about Vex’ahlia who, apparently, has a bit of a competitive streak.

               Percival first notices it during crunches when she keeps sneaking glances at him. It takes a moment for him to realize that she’s searching for signs of his slowing, or giving up. He’s not sure how to react to that. Mostly he’s preoccupied with the instinctive analysis that his mind goes plowing through. Is she always competitive? Or is it a trait unique to interacting with him? If it is, then what does it mean? Again, the lack of prior knowledge cripples his understanding. It would be frustrating if he wasn’t distracted by her challenging grin, half gritted teeth, half joy.

               Percival has never considered himself competitive. Nobody else has ever rivaled him at what he’s good at: tinkering, analyzing, understanding. He’s never been challenged at something he’s cared about, and exercise is definitely not something he holds in high personal regard. But strangely enough he finds himself grinning back at Vex’ahlia and pushing harder to keep pace with her.

               If he were less exhausted and less focused on doing just one gods damned more push-up, Percival might have realized that he didn’t care at all about the competition. He cared about participating with Vex’ahlia in an activity she enjoyed. As it stands, he’s too dead-focused on his trembling arms supporting his weight.

               Percival looks up and catches Vex’ahlia’s eye and the bond of mutual suffering passes between them. A bond that mutates into mutual relief and exhaustion when Grog suddenly says,

               “Okay that’s enough,” and walks away with purpose. Percival doesn’t even watch him to see where he goes. He’s too tired to turn his head. Too exhausted to exchange a question for moments spent gulping in the cool evening air.

               A few minutes pass without words, just the sound of tired breaths. Percival has never been this comfortable laying on a wooden floor. Next to him Vex’ahlia lets out a little noise of realization.

               “Oh! The stars are out,” she says lightly. Percival turns his head to look at her. She’s sprawled out on her back, chest still rising and falling with labored breaths. There’s still some light left in the sky cast by a sun that’s clinging to a slippery horizon. It highlights the sheen of sweat that coats Vex’ahlia’s skin, and casts dramatic shadows from her sharp, angled features. She turns her head toward him, and Percival is struck by the depth of her dark eyes. It feels like plunging into the deepest recesses of the ocean and wondering how far down it goes, wondering what could be hidden there. She raises a hand weakly to gesture at the sky, and then drops it over her chest. Percival does not follow her gesture. She does not seem to notice.

               “This Star is about to pass out,” he declares wearily. Vex’ahlia smiles and gives a weak little chuckle. Her laugh is like permission to breathe, and Percival fills his lungs as he breaks away from the depth of her eyes. She turns her head and looks upward while Percival studies the outline of her profile. She inhales deeply and then pauses.

               “Oh… dinner,” she says, lifting her head. Percival blinks, and then sniffs at the air. The scent of food wafts around them.

               “That explains where Grog went,” Percival remarks. His stomach growls audibly. Vex’ahlia laughs again at the noise, and Percival thinks that perhaps her laugh alone could sustain him.

               “Hungry?” she asks, though the answer is obvious.

               “Yes, but I think I’d like to lay here a moment longer. I’m not sure my arms and legs work anymore,” Percival answers. Vex’ahlia hums in agreement. He watches her shift experimentally, and she winces.

               “You know, I think laying here is a good idea,” she says. She turns her head lazily back toward Percival, a gentle smile touching the curve of her lips. “What is the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done?”

               “I beg your pardon?” Percival asks, caught quite off guard. Despite being unprepared, his mind flashes to a dozen different options.

               “I’m trying to get to know you,” Vex’ahlia says, speaking slowly as if to a child. Percival scoffs at her, but he smiles.

               “I realize that, the question was just very abrupt.”

               “Fair enough, but that doesn’t mean you can’t answer it,” Vex’ahlia points out. Percival turns his face away from her and stares upward at the quickly darkening sky. The faces of a hundred glimmering Stars wink down at him. He wonders if any of them are watching. The thought is somewhat mortifying… so he turns back to Vex’ahlia.

               “I can start,” she supplies. Percival raises a brow curiously. She seems about to continue, but for a split second her expression falters. There’s a flash of the true pain of remembrance in her eyes, and he catches a glimpse of a deep hurt in her heart. It’s buried an instant after it emerges, but Percival still feels compelled to lift his head to get a better look at her. One part of him wants to chase that mystery and unravel it. Another part simply leaps with the desire to comfort her, to let the mystery lie and help her smooth over the mound of dirt used to bury it. The latter compulsion surprises Percival, and it creates a conflicting hesitation that gives Vex’ahlia enough time to quickly speak and cut off anything he might do or say.

               “Once, I was trying to buy a book for my brother,” she says. “I’m quite good at haggling, but honestly this time around I just did terribly. I said all the wrong things, wound up insulting the shopkeeper, tripped over half of my words trying to fix things, and in the end I had to pay double price to get the damn book. I haven’t been back in that shop since that day.” She smiles and laughs a little at her own folly, but both actions are just the tiniest bit forced. Percival knows this isn’t the story that first jumped to Vex’ahlia’s mind.

               Percival traces the cracks in Vex’ahlia’s facade with his eyes. He can spot the slight trepidation in her expression: the worry that he had caught on to her earlier slip. That urge to comfort is still there, but he doesn’t know how to do it. He can feel the seconds slip through his fingers. There isn’t enough time to figure out the right things to say. Not nearly enough moments to unravel the mystery to help make things better.

               “I once said terrible things to a wonderful young woman,” he says without thinking. “I insulted her character and worth without knowing a thing about her. And then not a day later she saved my life, and proved me to be not only incorrect, but an insufferable ass. And she did so in a spectacular fashion.” The words feel rough in his mouth, and Percival bites his lip to stop more from spilling out. He wishes he had just a second more to compose his thoughts, just an instant to make them more than just a jumbled mess of clumsy syllables.

               Confusion, realization, and surprise cross Vex’ahlia’ face in quick succession. And then there are tears brimming in her eyes. Oh he’s said the wrong thing. He’s gone and hurt her with his recklessness. Percival opens his mouth to apologize, but the words catch in his throat.

               Vex’ahlia turns away and Percival watches her hastily swipe at her eyes. Is that a smile? Percival almost wants to reach up and clean his glasses to make sure he’s seeing her correctly. It’s difficult to know for sure from this angle, and in dim lighting no less.

               “That does sound embarrassing,” she says, still looking upward. She is smiling. Percival is sure of it now. He can hear it in her words; there’s a slight teasing intonation and then she gives the smallest huff of laughter.

               Percival inhales.

               “Mortifying,” he confirms solemnly. Vex’ahlia looks over at him and he offers her a tentative, apologetic smile. She studies him for a moment and Percival feels his heart seize under her scrutiny until her expression softens.

               Vex’ahlia pushes herself upright with a groan, and then slowly gets to her feet. She steps over to Percival and offers him her hand.

               “Come on,” she says, “let’s go get something to eat.” Percival looks up at her, a dark silhouette against the navy, Star-dotted tapestry of the sky.

               “I think that’s a great idea,” he says, and reaches up to take her hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a little while since we've had a Percival chapter!


	23. It Does Not Happen All At Once

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vex and Percy slowly get to know each other.

               Vex sits cross-legged on the deck next to Percy. The sky is bright blue and cloudless. She teaches him different sailing knots. She slyly slips in one or two knots that have no relation to sailing, and laughs when Percival comments on them with a crooked brow. His cheeks are a little pink but it’s his chuckle and smile that Vex enjoys the most.

               Percival sits next to Vex’ahlia in the mess hall. The sky is blue and dappled with lazy clouds. She asks about his spectacles, and he explains how they were made. She takes them from his hands when he offers them. He watches her fingers, deft and delicate, carefully turn over the wire frame and then place them on her face. He watches her look around the room. The gentle flicker of fondness burns in his heart when he watches her remove the spectacles and blink owlishly to clear her vision.

               Vex stands by Pike at the helm of The Broken Howl. The sky is pale blue with thick clouds drifting around them like a pod of whales in the ocean. The gnome explains  how she navigates, how she tracks storms, how her crew helps her steer through the mayhem. She steps away from the wheel and lets Vex take over. Vex feels the wind in her face and in her heart and looks over the deck of the vessel. She sees Percival and her confidence stutters. He looks up at her, sunlight glinting off of his glasses. He smiles and waves and Vex’s stutter is forgotten.

               Percival sits alone at the table in the mess hall. The sky is grey and overcast. He is bent over maps and star charts with a quill. Scratch paper is scattered in front of him, covered in calculations, lists, plans, schematics. He rubs at his book-weary eyes and inhales deeply. He scrambles to sweep the papers into a pile when he hears laughter approaching. Discordant notes float in the air, played with little skill but the best intentions. Percival looks over his shoulder and he sees Vex’ahlia enter the room with Scanlan. She’s clutching a flute and trying to blow notes between smothered laughs. Her eyes are shining, her face his red, and her smile is a sight for sore eyes. She catches his glance and makes an apologetic expression while mouthing ‘I have no idea what I’m doing’.

               Vex leans against the railing near the bow of The Broken Howl. The sky is grey and damp and clogged with misty clouds. She peers along the hull of the ship. Percy stands beside her, pointing at the pieces he helped repair and explaining how they work. Vex’s eyes do not follow the gesture, but rather the line of his arm. His sleeves are rolled to the elbow, exposing the lattice of scars on his arms. She looks him in the eye when he notices her gaze and his explanation trails off. He’s so full of words for so many topics, but for this he’s silent. Vex presses her shoulder to his and rolls up her sleeve to show him the scar from when she first tried to debone a duck. She shows him the scar on her shin from when she fell from a rooftop. Percy finds his words after that and shows her the scar he received when making toy swords for Oliver and Whitney. He explains the story behind other scars too. Some he does not mention. Vex does not ask about them.

               Percival leans against the mast and looks down at Vex’ahlia. The sky is dark and all around there are looming clouds. She’s sitting with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and is turning over two folded pieces of paper in her hands. She jumps when she notices Percival, and her fingers twitch like they want to shove the papers back into a pocket. Instead she unfolds them to reveal letters.  _ From family, _ she explains. Percival listens to Vex’s memories of helping her mother fold linens in the morning. Of a gentle woman tending to the scraped knees of her rowdy twins. Percival places his hand over hers when Vex’ahlia falls silent. All he can think to offer her is empathy. He knows it isn’t nearly enough, but he hopes it helps. From the corner of his eye he sees her expression soften a little.

               Vex and Percy stand side by side at the bow of the ship. The sky is dark and thick with massive, coiled thunderclouds. The wind throws their coats dramatically. Vex’s braid is caught up in the gust and the tail of it smacks Percy across the face. He recoils, looking confused and affronted before realizing what had happened. Vex clutches her sides laughing. Percy shakes his head, suppressing a smile, and gives her a retaliatory shove. Before things can escalate, a  rumble of thunder growls in the distance. The patter of heavy raindrops starts to beat against the deck of The Broken Howl. Vex and Percy both look forward as the first lance of lightning illuminates the storm ahead. Pike starts to shout orders from the helm. Vex exchanges a look with Percy, grinning widely. He gives her a knowing, confident smile. They turn in unison and join the rest of the crew to face the coming storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very short chapter of nice little moments.


	24. Keep Your Eyes On Me

               The Broken Howl finally breaks away from the stifling embrace of thunderclouds and into the gentle dusk-lit sky. The rain has gradually faded away. The thunder is only a distant grumble. After hours spent in the midst of howling wind, pelting rain, and roaring thunder, this serene quiet is supernatural and eerie.

               Vex’ahlia stands near the front of the ship haloed in golden light. The sun is dipping low now and gilds the clouds with warm colors. She turns her face toward the light, and it breathes life on to her skin, chilled pallid by the storm. The sunset holds her there for a moment, and she willingly surrenders to the warmth of its clutches. But all too soon, it slips below the horizon and the light leaves Vex’ahlia’s face.

               Percival holds his breath.

               Shadow crosses Vex’ahlia’s features. Her eyes flutter open. She stares after the sun as though somewhat surprised by its’ departure. A gust of wind pulls all of the fraying edges of her braid into the air, but the braid itself is too heavy with rainwater to be carried with them. Her fingertips dance along the woven locks, resting briefly on the raven feather. She smiles.

               Percival breathes.

               The sun has just set, but dawn breaks across Vex’ahlia’s face with that smile.

               Captain Trickfoot’s voice booms out across the deck, calling everyone back from their momentary lapse in attention. Percival starts a bit with the rest of the crew, summoned out of the reverie created by the absence of the storm. He realizes that Vex’ahlia isn’t the only one who had been looking toward the sun. The rest of the crew slowly returns to putting the ship back into order. 

               Percival feels a pair of eyes needling at the back of his neck. He turns to meet the gaze of Captain Trickfoot. She raises her brows at him, and makes an expression that he isn’t sure how to interpret. Rather than stand around like a dandy trying to decipher it, Percival turns and joins in the stream of deckhands going about their business.

 

* * *

 

               Percival indulges himself that evening with a long bath. He washes away the aches and strains of the day. The hot water chases the chill of the storm out of the marrow of his bones. He stares blankly at the wall, content. Absently he runs his fingernails over the lattice of scars on his forearm.

               A thought catches in his mind: not unlike a  burr catching on a pant leg, or a fingernail catching against the raised mark of a scar. Only… it’s not like that second thing at all. Percival lifts his arm curiously. He runs the pad of his thumb across the net of scar tissue and thinks that they seem somewhat faded. He tilts his head curiously, inspecting each scar and trying to decide if they are actually different or if his mind is playing tricks on him.

               He doesn’t really care.

               The thought strikes him suddenly, but gently. The realization is a strange one. A week ago he had been irritated at their existence, frustrated that recomposing his corporeal form had not given him a clean slate, so to speak. A few days ago after helping repair the channel he had hastily hid them from sight with something akin to shame burning in his chest. In fact just this morning when he was putting on his shirt he was irritated with how uncomfortably the fabric rubbed across the scars. But now for some reason this evening he just…

               The thought trails off without conclusion. Percival climbs out of the tub, dries off, and dons his clothing. He walks to the galley and pokes his head into the room. Inside there are a dozen or so men in varying stages of consuming food and drink after a long day. Several are standing around the stove warming their hands or drying still-damp clothes. Scanlan is sitting in a small chair, leaning back on two of the legs as he gently strums a lute. He  doesn’t look up at Percival, too intent on the strings. Vex’ahlia is not among the company.

               “She’s not here,” Scanlan says. The words echo down the hallway after Percival, who has already turned on his heel. He walks in a sort of trance, not sure what he is doing but certain that his feet will carry him to the right place. Scanlan’s words don’t penetrate the serene, single-minded focus of Percival’s mind. Nor does the gentle patter of little footsteps that trail after him.

 

* * *

 

               Night has fallen in earnest upon the deck. The dark sky is flung wide open above them, dotted with Stars that glimmer like raindrops caught on a navy canvas. The clouds are all gone, left far behind with the storm. The air is brisk, and the wind snakes into his unbuttoned coat, seeking to devour the warmth there. Percival tugs the heavy blue fabric tightly around his sides and folds his arms to preserve the precious heat instilled into his bones by the bath.

               Vex’ahlia is  leaning with her forearms against the railing and her face turned into the wind. Her hair is not pulled into its’ usual braid. Instead it flows free in the air. Percival does notice one tiny braid buried in the flowing locks; a single plait of hair wound tightly around a raven feather. 

               Percival doesn’t realize his feet have carried him next to Vex’ahlia until he’s resting his palms against the railing next to her. She tilts her head very slightly toward him, just enough to catch his gaze with hers. Her eyes are so dark they look black, but even during the night they glitter. Percival smiles at her. She smiles back.

               “Your hair is down,” Percival comments, not sure what else to say. He watches Vex’ahlia’s posture stiffen minutely.

               “Do you like it?” she asks. The question is loaded in a way that gives  Percival pause. Had the words been spoken without inflection, the reply would have been easy: Yes. But her trepidation makes him think. He doesn’t dislike her hair down. It makes her look wild and free. It makes her look ferocious. He doesn’t dislike her hair when it’s braided. He appreciates the practicality of her braid. Plus he’s seen her weave a dozen or so different patterns into the locks over the last week. All of them pleasing in their varying range of simplicity and complexity. He honestly hadn’t considered what he would prefer when it comes to how she wears her hair.

               “Do  _ you _ like it?” Percival asks at last. 

               Vex’ahlia turns her head to face him fully. Her loose hair whips around her face. She blinks and quickly swipes it out of the way. Her expression is carefully neutral, but her eyes hold the faintest glimmer of scrutiny. She blinks, and the mask of neutrality softens into… relief? Fondness? He watches the curve of her lips turn slightly upward. What did he do to deserve this  little smile? If only he had been paying more attention, he might know and be able to replicate his actions.

               “I prefer it braided, honestly,” she admits. “It gets everywhere when it’s loose,” she says, and proves her point by tucking another windswept lock back behind her ear. “I felt like letting it down tonight. I’m going to regret that decision when I go to brush it later.”

               Percival chuckles.

               “Later is later,” he says with a shrug.

               “Wise words,” Vex’ahlia says with faux solemnness. Percival makes a face at her, and she counters it with a grin. There is a brief moment of silence that the pair is unaware of. The world doesn’t exist around them. There’s no skybound ship swaying in the wind, no impending doom on the horizon. It’s just shared smiles , the fading ghosts of soft laughter, and warmth hidden away beneath coats and sustained by beating hearts.

               The silence threatens to become known as it stretches on. Knowledge teeters on the verge of awareness. Awareness of the lingering looks they are both giving. Of how close they are to one another. Of the shared space and shared warmth. It’s the kind of awareness that would make things awkward. But before that building wave can crest, it is broken by the delicate strumming of a lute. 

               Vex’ahlia blinks and pushes away from the railing so that she can peer around Percival. He turns as well, but belatedly. He clings to that gentle moment of blissful ignorance and good company. He watches Vex’ahlia smile. Watches the wind toss her hair around her face. Strands of it catch in her eyelashes. She shakes her head and blows irritably at the locks in her face before gathering it all in her hands.

               “Scanlan,” she greets warmly. Percival finally turns his head to face the gnome. He is walking along the deck, apparently aimless, but Percival suspects his path has purpose.

               “Vex,” he answers, “Don’t mind me. I’m just practicing.” And he starts to pluck out a halting song on his lute. It falters for a moment, and then changes. Falters. Changes. This happens once or twice more until Vex’ahlia’s pointed ears twitch and her face lights up.

               The tune solidifies after that, and Percival realizes that Scanlan had been swapping melodies searching for something Vex’ahlia would recognize. She steps away from the railing as though drawn by the music. There is a sway in her step as she moves, and her hands lift upward delicately, but with purpose and certainty.

               Vex’ahlia pauses. She looks over at Percival, and looks like she’s about to speak but the words catch. She purses her lips for a second as indecision flickers across her face. There’s the faintest touch of a blush on her cheeks and the tips of her ears. 

               “Do you know how to dance?” she asks finally. She raises her brows at him, hopeful, and offers her hand questioningly. 

               Percival looks at it, and feels his cheeks color to match hers. In all his years watching the material plane he has seen and learned many things. The intricacies of dancing is not one of those things. It is something he would have undoubtedly learned had his life not taken such an unexpected, and dark turn. But as things stand: dancing is a social activity he has never mastered.

               “I’m afraid I don’t,” he says. He lifts his hand quickly to take hers before she can drop it. “But you could show me.” Her fingers are warm and close deftly around his. She smiles at him, pulling him forward even as she speaks.

               “I’m not sure how good of a teacher I’ll be,” she warns.

               “I’m not sure how good of a student I’ll be… but I imagine we can stumble through the process together with some degree of success. I have faith in you,” Percival reassures. 

               Vex’ahlia pauses in thought, eyes distant as though in remembrance. Or perhaps it is something else? Percival catches a glimpse of an unusual shimmer in them. Tears? Vex’ahlia blinks them away too quickly for him to be certain.

               “I’ll have to remember how. It’s been a while,” she says, biting her lower lip a bit and looking down at her feet. The motion is not one of shyness, but of searching and concentration. She’s trying to remember how her feet need to move. 

               Percival watches the gears turn behind her keen eyes. Watches concentration etch itself onto her face. He only gets a moment or two to admire it before Vex’ahlia gives an ‘ah-ha!’ and pulls him stumbling forward. He rights himself as she laughs and utters an apology.

               “You group your movements in steps of three. And you sort of flow as you move,” she explains. She places one of his hands at her waist, and takes the other high in her own grasp. “There,” she says, and continues to pull him along. She hums with the music that Scanlan plays, and soon she isn’t looking down at her feet at all.

               Percival finds himself constantly looking down, fumbling, mis-stepping. It’s a bit distracting having his fingertips ideally placed to plot the curve of her waist. 

               “This is much more difficult than I thought it’d be,” he admits. Vex’ahlia laughs, and somehow the sound fends off any embarrassment Percival might have felt for his mistakes.

               “Try looking at your feet less,” she suggests. “Look at me, and follow my lead.”

               “Alright,” Percival says after a moment of hesitation. His expression must say something of his reluctance, because Vex’ahlia squeezes his hand lightly and says,

               “Trust me.”

               He does.

               So Percival peels his eyes up and looks into Vex’ahlia’s bright black eyes. He focuses on how she moves, the pattern of her steps, the telling twitches of muscle that indicate direction, and the soft pull of her hand as she guides him.

               It is not a seamless transition, but Percival definitely improves. He smiles and notes that it’s rare he finds a solution for a problem by thinking  _ less _ and feeling  _ more. _ He’s so accustomed to doing the opposite that this change of pace is rather refreshing.

               Vex’ahlia seems to enjoy it as well. As he gets better at the simple steps, she takes him through more complex motions. Scanlan keeps playing, apparently oblivious to their dance. Vex’ahlia tries to teach Percival how to spin her. They try a half dozen times before he even comes close to getting it right. Normally Percival wouldn’t have counted that stumbling twirl as a victory, but Vex’ahlia laughs as her hair whips around her face and grins at him triumphantly.

               “You’re getting it!” she says, and Percival feels his heart glow with warmth and pride. 

               “Dancing is much harder than it looks,” he says, a little out of breath. He isn’t sure how long they’ve been at this, but he’s tired, and his muscles are still sore from wrestling with the storm. 

               “It is,” Vex’ahlia confirms, and takes a step away, “I think that’s enough for now and…” she pauses, glancing around, “...we’ve lost our music it seems.”

               Percival looks around the deck of the ship and realizes that Vex’ahlia is right. Scanlan is nowhere to be seen. He does a full turn searching for the gnome but to no avail.

               “How in the world does he do that? How did we not notice?” Percival asks incredulously. 

               “I don’t know, I was humming the music and trying to teach, I guess I was so absorbed I didn’t notice him leave. He’s probably off to bed,” Vex’ahlia suggests. Percival nods and inhales deeply. Though he’s exhausted, he doesn’t quite feel like sleeping just yet. The air is crisp and cool in a way that makes the night feel young and awake. 

               Percival drifts over to the railing once more, and leans his hip against it. He glances up to see Vex’ahlia has followed him. Her fingers are trying vainly to comb through her hair. She quickly gives it up and instead just twists the tangled locks lightly together. She leans against the railing next to him.

               “How did I do?” Percival asks.

               “Better than I did when I was first learning,” Vex’ahlia says, smiling gently.

               “I have a very good teacher,” he answers without hesitation. Vex’ahlia scoffs, rolling her eyes. 

               “Flattery,” she dismisses with a wave of her hand.

               “You’re the best dance teacher I’ve ever had!” Percival protests, grinning. Vex’ahlia blinks, and then laughs and gives him a playful shove.

               “I’m the only dance teacher you’ve ever had!” she rebukes. Percival catches her hands without thinking.

               “Doesn’t make it any less true,” he says, matter of fact. Vex’ahlia rolls her eyes, but doesn’t pull away. 

               “Not less true, maybe less meaningful,” she says, but the words are spoken in jest and not genuine hurt.

               “I disagree,” Percival says gently, and Vex’ahlia seems a little taken aback by his quiet sincerity. The grin on her face fades into something softer. She doesn’t have a response. Percival doesn’t need one. In fact he doesn’t have any other words to say himself.

               He’s caught speechless by the fierce tangled mess of her hair that flows in the wind, the shimmering raven feather knotted into that tiny braid, the keen, intelligent flicker and shine of her eyes in the Star light. She’s beautiful.

               Her hands are soft in his. Her dark eyelashes flutter. A breath draws them both closer. Percival leans forward, calm, certain. 

               He stops.

               A dreadful chill dances deftly down his spine. His eyes dart upward, pulled by some unconscious force. The sky is dark. The Stars are shining. But not all of them. High above, the far-distant realm of the Alabaster Sierra’s peppers the sky with a faint band of luminosity. And in their midst is nothing. No Stars. No faded echoes of a presence. Percival’s residual energy has finally burnt itself out.

               With life and breath caught in his throat, Percival searches fearfully for the dark, ominous presence that lingered there: the hungry all-consuming maw of obsidian he had once sought out in panic and desperation. It’s not there. Which can mean only one thing.

               Percival drops Vex’ahlia’s hands abruptly before she can feel the tremble that has entered his body. He steps away from her, clearing his throat apologetically. He tears his eyes away from the sky and drops them fervently to the ground.

               “We should get some sleep,” he says. His voice is distant and cool, echoing a calm that he does not feel as he hurriedly turns on his heel and walks away. Guilt, sorrow, and terror gnaw at his insides as he walks. The emotions roil in a raging cacophony that makes rational thought impossible. It all reduces down to one visceral thought:  _ He’s here... Orthax is on the Material Plane. _

_ _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorrryyyyyyyy


	25. No Second Chances for Twice-Damned Souls

               The morning brings bright, clear skies. But the optimistic weather does not bring Percival peace of mind any more than the previous night brought him rest. He opens his eyes in the morning and wants nothing more than to close them again… but he knows it will not bring him any rest. At this point it is time to pick his poison. If he closes his eyes now he will simply wile away the seconds wondering how long it will take for Orthax to hunt him down. If he opens his eyes he must face the day and the knowledge of how he left Vex’ahlia the previous evening.

               Percival closes his eyes. 

               The image of Vex’ahlia against the dark,empty sky haunts the back of Percival’s eyelids. He groans and rakes his fingers over his face. His fingernails scrape harshly over his closed eyes but the image remains untouched.

               Percival opens his eyes.

               The way he’s laying on his cot means that as soon as he opens his eyes he can see that Vex’ahlia’s bed is empty. A terrible knot twists into his stomach and chest. He isn’t sure if he’s relieved that she’s not in the room, or disappointed. 

               Percival shoves himself up and swings his feet onto the floor. He finds himself staring at Vex’ahlia’s empty cot. Not only is it empty, it’s untouched. She hadn’t slept there the previous evening. Percival just stares blankly, not sure what to make of that conclusion. There are a number of reasons that come to Percival’s mind that might explain Vex’ahlia’s absence. It  _ might _ not be that he had been about to kiss her and then abruptly left with no explanation. It  _ might _ not be that she felt too uncomfortable or slighted to be around Percival. She might not even have realized his intentions. She might not even have approved of his advances.

               With that thought, the tight knots in Percival’s stomach and chest slowly unravel. He breathes a sigh of relief as the anxiety slips away and turns into the much more familiar and bearable sensation of disdainful self loathing. Of course that’s it. She was being considerate of  _ his  _ feelings by giving him space after his social fumble. They barely knew each other and he had presumed to try and kiss her!

               Percival gives a long exhale and rubs his face. A faint, bitter smile touches his expression. Mistake made, mystery solved. At worst he has to deal with a few uncomfortable exchanges with Vex’ahlia before things smooth over. That smile vanishes as soon as he remembers that not only does he need to confront the Briarwoods and save Cassandra, but Orthax is on the Material Plane and hunting him down.

               “Priorities, Percival… Priorities,” Percival mutters to himself, and pushes himself to his feet. As he walks toward the magical wardrobe he almost stumbles. For some reason he feels oddly off-balance; it’s as if the ground is swaying. 

               It takes a few moments, but Percival finally realizes the opposite is true. For the first time in a long time, the deck of The Broken Howl is unmoving. Percival looks toward the large windowed wall of Captain Trickfoot’s quarters. Rooftops are peaking through the morning haze. Below, Percival can see morning traffic shuffling through the streets. People with carts move boxes and barrels to and from warehouses. Across the way, Percival sees another airship docked at a sky-port. It is much larger and more aggressively equipped than The Broken Howl. 

               They’ve reached Westruun.

 

* * *

 

               Percival steps into the morning light and breathes in the crisp morning air. Westruun is much deeper into Fall than Percival had anticipated. The rising mountains in the north are dotted with trees that have a significant amount of yellows, oranges, and reds stained upon their leaves. Mottled patches of green still remain, but they’re not long for this world. 

               The deck of The Broken Howl bustles with activity. Crew members utter morning greetings to Percival as they pass by him with arms full of magically reinforced crates of lightning. A few of them say quick farewells. ‘In case we don’t see you again before you set off!’ they say.  _ In case you don’t see me again ever, _ Percival thinks to himself grimly.

               Percival casts his eyes about for Vex’ahlia and finds her at the helm of the airship. She’s standing beside Captain Trickfoot and hasn’t noticed Percival’s gaze yet. She looks tired. Her hair has been brushed and pulled into a tight braid that falls straight down her back. Her raven feather must be tucked into the tail of her braid, because Percival cannot spot it behind her ear. 

               Vex’ahlia says something to Captain Trickfoot and gives a heavy sigh. He watches her wring her hands together and briefly imagines how it had felt to intertwine his fingers in hers. He watches her hands drop abruptly to her sides, and notices a quiver at her hip for the first time. Two dozen slim, carefully fletched arrows peek out of the leather sling. Now that he notices it, he can also see the curve of a bow peeking out from Vex’ahlia’s back. He glances back to her face, and suppresses a start when he realizes that she’s looking right at him.

               Her face is composed and calm. From the corner of his eye, Percival can see Captain Trickfoot start to descend the stairs toward him. She has something in her hands, but he cannot see it properly from his peripherals and he can’t seem to find the willpower to look away from Vex’ahlia’s solid black stare. Mercifully, she looks away first, eyes turning toward the rising mountains.

               “This is for you,” Captain Trickfoot’s voice says. Percival looks down at the diminutive woman. She is holding a sword across the upturned palms of her hands. It’s not an intricate thing, no embellishments or gemstones set in the pommel, but there is elegance in its simplicity and practicality.

               Percival takes the weapon into his hands and finds comfort in the weight. He runs his fingers over the simple scabbard and pulls the sword free just an inch. The blade gleams in the morning sunlight. He sheathes it again and buckles the scabbard to his belt.  

               “Captain--” Percival starts.

               “It’s nothing fancy,” Captain Trickfoot says. “But based on what you’ve told me, you’ll probably need something to defend yourself.” Percival kneels down in front of the good Captain and places his hand on her shoulder. She seems somewhat surprised by the gesture.

               “Thank you, Captain Trickfoot. You’ve given me more than I deserve,” he says, and hopes he sounds as earnest as he feels. Pike smiles softly and places her hand over his.

               “Everyone deserves a second chance,” she says gently. Percival’s gaze drops. He can’t meet her kind eyes. He isn’t doing this for some sort of second chance or redemption. He’s doing this to save Cassandra, and he’s prepared to do very irredeemable things in order to see her safely back to the Ethereal Plane.

               Captain Trickfoot’s face slides into view.

               She scrutinizes him. Her eyes don’t trap him like Vex’ahlia’s, but small deft fingers lift his chin and do the job instead. She has a gentle, knowing smile on her face that Percival finds somewhat unsettling.

               “Go stir up some trouble,” she says, and winks. 

               Somehow that is more heartening than being assured he deserves a second chance. Percival isn’t so sure about the whole redemption thing--wait, no that’s not right. He’s absolutely sure he isn’t on some sort of redemptive quest to redeem his worth. On the other hand, he  _ definitely _ can stir up some trouble.

               Percival nods.

               “I can do that,” he says, and a slow grin spreads across his face, “I can definitely do that. Thankyou Captain.” His fingers linger on the hilt of his sword as he stands, and his eyes are darting back and forth blindly as he thinks. He needs to go shopping.

               “Ready?” Vex’ahlia’s voice cuts through the haze of thought. Percival blinks and looks at her. She has a backpack slung over one shoulder, and one proffered to him. She doesn’t quite meet his eye, and Percival feels a tight knot constrict in his stomach. He swallows his shame and embarrassment, takes the backpack, and shrugs it on.

               “Yes I’m ready. I need to pick up a few things and do some… crafting,” he says, already stepping toward the gangplank.

               “There’s some money in your backpack. Payment for our hard work on the ship,” Vex’ahlia says. Percival nods absently as he steps off of The Broken Howl, already creating a mental list.

               “It’ll take at least the day--” Percival says, stopping when he realizes Vex’ahlia isn’t following him. She’s kneeled down next to Pike, apparently saying her goodbye. Percival glances down at his feet, patiently waiting for her to catch up. When he glances back up, both she and Captain Trickfoot are glancing conspicuously in his direction. 

               Vex’ahlia gives Captain Trickfoot a hug, and then darts nimbly toward Percival--again without meeting his eye.

               “Shall we?” she asks, but keeps walking rather than wait for his reply. Percival can’t help but notice the briskness of her voice. It is not anger or malice, it is simply… cordiall, perfectly polite. It stings. He follows her.

               “I was thinking we could do some divide and conquer,” Percival says as they walk. He has a bit of trouble keeping stride with her. She gravitates toward the side of the walkway, skirting around people like a shadow. Percival had never paid much attention to how he walked before, but he knows it isn’t like this, and it throws off his gait. “I could do some shopping--er and you could see about-- pardon me,” he sidesteps another passerby. “You could see about our path out of this city-- excuse me,” he dodges another person. “We’ll need to head--pardon--Vex’ahlia!” he says finally, exasperated at her relentless pace.

               Vex’ahlia slides her eyes over to him, but Percival doesn’t meet them. He scoots forward and slips his arm underneath hers. He guides them both into the flow of people, and opposing traffic parts around them.

               It isn’t until they’ve settled into a comfortable stride that Percival realizes how tense Vex’ahlia is at his side. The tension dissolves quickly, but he can tell it is out of courtesy and not a genuine sign of being relaxed. She holds her head high and looks forward determinedly. 

               “We’re heading north, yes,” she says with a nod. Her lips twitch and indecision flickers across her expression before it softens. “Yes,” she says, and her tone is gentler this time… was that regret he heard haunting her voice? “I’m rather good at haggling. Are you sure you don’t want me around to help you gather your things? What are you crafting?”

               “A weapon to help against the Briarwoods,” Percival answers in an undertone. “I’ll be fine on my own. You can grab anything you think will come in handy. Let’s find an inn for the night and make that our meeting point.”

               Vex’ahlia nods, and the two start to cast about for a suitable inn. It’s Vex’ahlia that finds one, small and fairly innocuous and tucked away between two larger buildings. A sign proclaims the small inn is called The Powder Keg. While the exterior is somewhat grimy, but inside is clean enough. Vex’ahlia exchanges a few coins and a wink for a key, which she offers to Percival.

               “You keep it,” he says, curling her fingers back over the small key. He withdraws his hand quickly, as though he hadn’t meant to touch her. “You’ll probably be back before I am,” he explains a little awkwardly, “Don’t wait up.”

               “Alright,” Vex’ahlia says, and Percival turns abruptly and scampers off. He berates himself mentally for the second rude departure from her presence in twenty-four hours.

 

* * *

 

               Vex’ahlia’s wink, Percival finds, is not something easily replicated. He pays full price for everything he needs. Not that money particularly matters to him, he won’t need it where he’s going. Might as well spend it all here and now where it’ll be useful. A tiny voice at the back of his head tells him he could leave it with Vex’ahlia. 

               Percival shakes away that tiny voice as he makes his final purchase: use of a smithy for the evening. He can’t be distracted tonight. He has a lot of work to get done, and not a lot of time to do it. His materials are not ideal, and this workshop isn’t particularly familiar. Circumstances are not ideal. But then, he couldn’t say he ever expected anything to go well on this blasted plane. With a will, Percival sets aside his heavy blue coat and dons a leather apron.

               Tinkering brings a solace that Percival hasn’t felt for a long time. There is a comfort in the work. He knows each step and how they all culminate in a final product. He knows the dangers and risks of creating certain components. There is certainty in his work and therefore in his will. His life has been nothing but uncertain as of late, and this… this is the eye of the storm.

               He’s creating something monstrous. Something he swore he would never consider making again after Anna Ripley stripped it from his mind and applied her own will to it. But then, desperate times call for desperate measures. He might not deserve that second chance Captain Trickfoot talked about, but Cassandra definitely did. His soul was already damned, what was the harm in damning it a little more to save his sister from the hell he left her to all those years ago?

               So Percival works through the night to make his wretched creation. When he finally blinks the haze from his eyes and sets aside his apron, he does not know how much time has passed. He looks at the completed metal instrument in his hands, and then to the smoldering coals as a lazy black smoke starts to curl off of them.

               He is too tired to be afraid as that smoke starts to coalesce. He is too deep in the calm meditative state of mind induced by his work to panic. Percival only stands to face the dark shape as it spills out of the embers and draws itself up into a vaguely humanoid shape in front of him. He looks up at its head as two eyes flicker into existence--dull and burning like the light from a dying star.

               “I suppose we need to talk,” Percival says, and holds up his creation.

               A jagged, livid, glowing smile carves itself across Orthax’s ghastly, spectral face. Percival grits his teeth and consigns himself to being a twice-damned soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, it's been a hot second! Life has been bananas lately! I graduated and then ran around the country with some friends, and then I got a big girl job! And this coming August is going to be INSANE so I wanted to squeak in an update before I'm consumed by the mayhem again.
> 
> Thanks to everyone waiting so patiently!


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